The Elizabeth Series
by Jo2
Summary: The beginning of my Elizabeth Series. Her friendship with Joe and his daughter Amy, brings danger to their lives.
1. Crossfire

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES**

**CHAPTER ONE  
****CROSSFIRE**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A Amy OCs Elizabeth Bennett, Kevin, Joshua Logan

**SUMMARY**: Amy's friend, Elizabeth, gets her father, Joe Dawson, caught in the cross fire of an immortal feud.

**DISCLAIMER**: This is a work of fan fiction. Highlander characters you recognize belong to Panzer/Davis. The others I guess belong to my warped imagination. No profit, only fun, is to be gained from the writing of this story.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY **  
**SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 3, 2000**

Amy had too much to do. Her wedding was only six days away. The wedding planner she had hired left a message on her machine while she was at church saying, "Come! Come right away!" Well, Jerard was the excitable type**;** it could be nothing, but it was too close to the wedding date to put him off. So, while she put her coat back on and petted the cat goodbye, she thought of the other things she still had to do that day. 

Her father, Joe Dawson, and his friends from out of town were coming over for dinner and she'd only met one of them before. Adam Pierson, the ex-watcher who turned out to be an immortal, who had saved her life from Morgan Walker. That was the only time she'd ever seen him, but since Joe talked about him ad nauseam, which was a high recommendation in her book, she felt like she knew him. The other two, Duncan and Amanda, she'd only heard about and couldn't wait to meet. When she noticed the cardboard Brooks Brothers box on the couch, she picked it up and walked out.

As she was locking the door to her middle class apartment, she heard the bell signaling the arrival of the elevator. What luck! That elevator was the slowest in the Tri-borough area. As soon as the clanky, old elevator doors opened, Amy yelled down the hall, "Hold it please! I'll be right there!"

Elizabeth Bennett smiled, as she stood at the elevator, leaning against the bucking door to keep it open. Amy deposited her key ring in her purse and started down the hall, she smiled when she saw the elevator was being held by her friend from across the hall. "Thanks, Liz."

Elizabeth stepped aside to let her pass and said, "There you go, ma'am." She saw the box and asked, "What's that?"

"I got the wrong size shirt for Kevin. With everything I have to organize for the wedding, you'd think he could buy his own shirt." Amy punched the lobby button, ready to start on her errands, but she could see through the false facade of Elizabeth's smile, "What's wrong?"

Elizabeth sighed, "Eliot called again this morning."

Amy stood on her side of the elevator opening and leaned against the other door. "Oh, God. Now what does he want?"

"He still wants the coffee table."

"The judge said it was yours."

"Eliot knows that too, he just loves ruining my day."

"He's not over you," Amy replied in a sing-song voice.

"Then why did he sleep around? He's territorial, that's all."

Amy peshawed the memory of Eliot from her mind and changed the subject, "You're still coming over for dinner tonight, right?"

"Of course," Elizabeth's smile returned, genuine this time. "Joe will be there. Do you think he'll play for us tonight? I did buy one thing today," she reached into her backpack and pulled out a CD titled, "Joe Dawson and the Blues Boys".

A compliment about Joe Dawson was a compliment to his daughter, Amy. She smiled, took the CD from Elizabeth and studied the cover art. "Now, that's a great picture of him." It was a picture of the band during a performance, with Joe Dawson front and center in the spotlight, leaning against a stool, lost in the emotions he had to dredge up to play his tunes. Amy grinned, "Joe told me he looks constipated in this picture. He doesn't."

"I want him to play 'Fire on the Water'. They were playing the CD in the store. It was just beautiful."

"I'm sure you won't have to twist his arm. Around 7:30?"

"Sounds great. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. See you then."

Elizabeth finally let the doors go and they clanked closed immediately. She pulled on the long chain that was tucked inside her blouse and retrieved the key to her apartment door, across the hall from Amy's.

* * *

**7:30 PM**

Elizabeth, with her long auburn hair pulled back off her face and neck, dressed in a simple dark green dress and low shoes for the informal gathering Amy had organized for that evening, wondered if she'd feel like a fifth wheel. This would be the first 'adult' outing she'd had since her divorce from Eliot. 

After going through her closet, wondering if Joe's band would wear jeans, she debated whether or not she should dress up and decided on the former. Elizabeth was assuming that the guys in the band were the 'few people' Amy had invited for dinner, but loved dressing up and slipped into an emerald green sheath that she had bought for herself to pick herself up after the divorce. This would be the first party she'd had the opportunity to wear it. It hung a little loose and realized that she had lost weight. She pulled her long wavy, auburn hair back and let the back hang loose in waves that she controled with a curling iron and some hair spray. While putting on her makeup, she noticed that her almond shaped brown eyes looked tired. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep since the divorce either and decided some extra light eye shadow would open them up more. 

When Kevin answered the door wearing what looked like a brand new, expensive sweater and pants, she was glad she dressed up as it wasn't an informal gathering after all. She handed the telltale pale yellow cake box from Delano's Bakery to him. 

He said, "I smell a crispy crust, smooth custard center, a hint of powdered sugar... This isn't a beehive, is it?"

"Of course, it's a beehive."

"You're the greatest," he said, kissing her cheek. "Come on in." 

Kevin, Amy's fiance, was a tall man, muscular blond man who could be confused as a 'surfer dude' but hadn't gone near a beach in his life, and melted at the sight and smell of the box like a little kid who spied a Hershey bar on the top shelf of the cupboards. 

"You have to wait until after dinner, now, Kev."

"They say," he offered. "That if you eat dessert first, it helps digest the meal."

"Well, then, knock yourself out. I know I believe everything I hear 'they say'," Elizabeth smiled. In the living room, there were signs of company to come, hors d'oeuvres on the table, wine chilling, but no Joe. "I'm not too early, am I?"

"No, everyone else is late. Including Amy. Is this what I have to look forward to after the wedding?"

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled. Kevin took a very nervous breath. The wedding was coming to quickly for Mr. Randall by the looks of it. "You said 'everyone'?"

"Yeah, Joe, and some of his friends that just got to town for the wedding."

"Oh, Amy didn't mention that. Do I know them?"

"Probably not, I haven't met them yet myself. They're from out of town and are more friends of Joe's than ours."

Elizabeth heard Joe's CD drifting in from the bedroom. "Where's Amy?"

"In the bedroom getting ready." Kevin put the beehive on the kitchen table using all the willpower he could muster not to open that box. "Something about not finding a particular pair of shoes. I told her, we're at home. What do you need shoes for?"

"Men," Elizabeth muttered with a smile, shaking her head. They'd never understand. "I'll help her find them."

"Do you want some wine?"

"Absolutely."

"It'll be ready for ya after the great shoe search."

* * *

Amy was bent over, looking under the bed, when Elizabeth knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. She and Amy were such good friends they had no secrets, except two. 

One was that Amy was blissfully unaware that Elizabeth was immortal. The other, that Amy was at one time a watcher, along with her father, Joe, and Elizabeth had no idea such a job existed. 

Amy looked at her as she walked in and said as if it was the last straw, "I can't for the life of me figure out what happened to them. I've never even worn them."

"Which ones?"

"The Enzo Burgatti's."

Elizabeth looked at Amy's sweater outfit then scanned the shoes on the floor of Amy's closet and said, "The red ones?"

"Yeah."

"Those are mine, Amy. They're in my closet."

"Oh, that's right. I bought the green pair," she said, shaking her head, looking at the green pumps in the closet. "Why did I buy green? I hate green." Spotting Elizabeth's green dress she changed her screwed up nose into a smile in no time, "On me. You look great in green."

Elizabeth smiled, "You had a quite a day, huh?"

Amy, still frazzled, wondered, "It shows that much?"

Elizabeth nodded and took a pair of shoes from the floor of the closet, "Wear these. You can't go wrong with black." As they sat on the bed, she asked, "How are the wedding plans going?"

Amy was in her own little exasperated world as she put on the shoes, "I'm going to lose my mind. Jerard is no help whatsoever. My dress is still big enough for two of me, the florists forgot all about the sprays for the pews, and I could **_kill_**__ the caterer. The wedding is Friday and they're under the impression that I want to serve salmon for the meal."

Elizabeth smiled and sat down next to Amy knowing she needed to talk it out. Amy continued, "For the hundredth time, I had to tell them the smoked salmon is for the appetizer and the shrimp stuffed chicken is for the meal. And do you know what? They forgot to order the chicken! They don't know if they can get such a large shipment in time, Jerard actually asked me, 'Ow 'bout beef?' Of course they could get beef, beef is bad for you. Thank God I met with him today." She took a breath after the long tirade.

"I like beef," Elizabeth said with a smile to lighten her friend's mood, then massaged Amy's tight shoulders. "Relax..." Elizabeth had gone through a few weddings, and knew what Amy was up against, although she'd never used a wedding planner. That must be a new thing. "So, we'll eat beef. It's not that big of a deal."

"When you got married did you have all these headaches?"

She had only told Amy about the last one. Elizabeth cringed to utter his name. "To Eliot? Not one. We eloped in Vegas."

"Oh...," Amy wistfully moaned. "Kevin and I should just elope." After a short pause while fastening the straps of the shoes, she revealed, "I wish my mother were here. She wouldn't let a stupid caterer forget about the shrimp stuffed chicken."

"Oh, honey..." Elizabeth said, wrapping an arm around Amy's shoulders. She softly smiled at the thoughts that the memory of Amy's mother evoked. "You're right, Laura wouldn't have. She would have pushed that little Frenchman around to keep him in line, too. Isn't that what he's supposed to do, make things easier for you? Laura would have loved to see you get married." It was sad she didn't make it that long. 

Just three years earlier Laura Thomas, a segment producer for CNN, a woman on top of the world and her craft, died when her chartered passenger plane crashed somewhere in Alaska. The authorities were able to locate the area where it dropped from radar and determined that it went into the sea. After three days of searching, nothing. There was no way any survivors could have endured the freezing Alaskan waters in November. The search was ended when the outlook was bleak. When Joe heard about the crash, he rushed to Amy in New York. He was her father and firmly stated that he would always be there for her. 

Weeks later, Joe quit the watchers and moved to New York when Amy opened the door to having a relationship, not as father-daughter, but as friends. He was pleased when their relationship did eventually become father-daughter, and Elizabeth had been privy to it all, except for Joe's former profession.

"Weddings..., "Amy commented. "I didn't know they were this much trouble. And all the expense. You can't even look at any of the so called helpers without writing out a check."

Responding to Amy's earlier comment Elizabeth said "No." Remembering her five weddings, she disagreed. "Eliot and I eloped, and we divorced. You have to do it in front of God and everybody or it's not going to last." Only her wedding to Teddy had been in a church with family present. His little sister Marcy, her parents, the whole town of Gettysburg was present back in 1851 when she was still mortal. "Your wedding is going to be beautiful. You have excellent taste. It will all work! Just think about that. Then it's going to be over and the marriage begins."

"All this work for one day of my life. I must be out of my mind. I blame Hallmark." Amy stood and fished through her jewelry box for a pair of earrings. "They promote all these celebrations, protocols and holidays with commercials that make you cry... the people in," she paused, then shrugged, "wherever it was, have the right idea. You walk around a table three times and you're married."

Elizabeth tightened as the all too familiar sensation rumbled from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. An immortal buzz. Living in New York City, it was a normal thing, but not here, not in the safe haven of her apartment building. Amy sensed her discomfort and studied her tense face. Elizabeth said, "Someone's here."

"I didn't hear the door bell..." Amy said, right before the doorbell rang. Amy looked at her and smiled, "How did you know that? Are you psychic?"

* * *

Methos had rung the doorbell even though he sensed the buzz. Figuring MacLeod and Amanda were there, he walked in when a mortal opened the door. He shook hands with the man and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Adam Pierson. You must be Kevin."

"Yes, Adam," Kevin smiled in greeting. "It's nice to meet you. Come on in." 

When Methos looked around the room and didn't see MacLeod, he became nervous. "Who's here?"

"Just Liz and Amy," Kevin said without a care in the world. 

Methos looked at him, shook his head. Mortals... they didn't understand. He knew that Amy wasn't the source of his discomfort, so there was only one other possibility. As he privately wondered if he should high tail it out of there, he asked, "Who's Liz?"

Just then Elizabeth appeared in the hallway to the bedroom and tried to stare down the strange, lanky immortal. Leery with him on her turf, she asked straight out, "Who are you?"

Kevin turned to her and said, "This is Adam Pierson, Liz." He tried to remain the pleasant host, but it was difficult when the two of them were definitely on guard with each other. "Adam, Liz Bennett. She lives across the hall."

Methos recognized her, but damn if he could place her. He was going to ask, to decide if she was friend or foe, when a new buzz hit both of the immortals' radar. Then door bell rang. Methos relaxed, it could only mean reinforcements had arrived in the form of Duncan MacLeod. Elizabeth was ready to jump out of her skin with the arrival of the newest intruders. When Kevin mentioned friends of Joe's, she didn't expect immortals, and didn't know how Joe could know immortals. Kevin opened the door to Duncan and Amanda. 

One immortal didn't seem threatening and Elizabeth might have been able to keep her eye on him, but not three. She didn't have her sword never thinking she'd need it to have dinner with Amy and Kevin and listen to Joe strum on a guitar with his band. Duncan outstretched his hand to Kevin, "Nice to meet you Kevin, Duncan MacLeod. This is Amanda Montrose." 

Amanda shook Kevin's hand and admitted, "My heel broke," as an explanation for their lateness.

Duncan handed Kevin the gift of wine and they stepped into the living room. "Adam," he shook Methos' hand. "Long time no see."

"Well, you know," Methos said. "Life..."

Amy came out of the bedroom and saw them all. "Oh, everyone's here. Liz, did you meet everyone?"

With fear overriding her good manners, she said, "I was just leaving." She kissed Amy on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later."

Kevin asked her, "Where are you going?"

Elizabeth said, "Sorry, but..." She kissed Kevin on the cheek saying, "See you later." She was gone before even checking to see if the immortals meant her any harm. They all felt her buzz and knew what she was, that alone was too much for her. 

Amanda took it personally, "Did she want you all to herself or something?" She was used to females cowering from her, but this was ridiculous.

Methos, wondering where he'd seen her face before, concentrated on digging the tip of his shoe into the carpet as he debated. Duncan saw the look of deep thought on Methos' face and said, "What did you do to her?"

"Me? Nothing. I've never seen her before in my life." As soon as he said it, he knew it was a false statement. That sent a chill up his spine. Instant recognition of someone was a gift of Methos'. One he had appreciated having through all through his many years, and now it was failing him.

Amanda laughed, "Well, something got to her."

Kevin said, "She's... I don't understand it. She's a people person."

Amy took Duncan's arm, "That's not how Liz behaves. I'm making a wild stab in the dark, but..." Amy couldn't believe she was even making the assumption, she'd known Elizabeth for too many years without even thinking about the possibility, but it was the only explanation. "Is she Immortal?" All the immortals in the room looked at Kevin, a mortal. Amy said, "He knows about it. It's all right. I told him. Kevin isn't going to tell anyone."

"Yes," Duncan said, hesitantly, not knowing how reliable Kevin actually was.

"I didn't know that," Amy said, putting her hand to her chest. "She never said anything about it."

Duncan said, "Why would she? How long have you known her?"

"Almost five years. I had no idea."

Amanda asked, "What's wrong with her? It's like we scared her."

"I don't know," Amy shrugged. "She was looking forward to seeing Joe tonight."

That got Methos' attention. That could be where he'd seen the woman before, "She knows Joe?"

"Of course. He's my father and she's my best friend."

Duncan asked, "Where does she live?"

"Across the hall. 3B."

"I'll see if she went home and talk to her."

Kevin was suddenly leery, no longer the cordial host. "You're... all... immortals?"

Duncan smiled, tada, and walked to the hallway. Kevin pulled Amy over to the semi privacy of the living room and said, "I didn't know they were immortal."

"So? They're friends of Joe's."

"I've never met one before. How do you talk to them?"

Amy smiled, put her hand on his and said, "They're people, Kevin. You just talk. Be normal." Some immortals scared her, Walker for instance, but Joe was a reliable judge of character and if they were all good friends of his. There was nothing to worry about.

Kevin watched everything they did while two of them hovered near the door to his apartment. They looked like normal people. When Amy told him about immortals, he didn't really digest what she said. He heard Amanda talk, paid attention to every word, as if she was speaking a foreign language. Her words weren't foreign, but she suddenly was.

Amanda asked, "So, Adam... what have you been up to? And don't say this and that again."

"Oh, a little bit of everything," he enjoyed playing with her.

"I would imagine... Are you going to make this like a quiz... twenty questions?"

"I don't like to play games," he looked over the foyer, wondering when they'd be allowed to enter the domicile farther than the entrance. And more importantly, if he'd eventually get a beer.

"What are you doing in the Big Apple?"

"I'm researching."

"Well, you were always handy at that," Amanda smiled. "What are you researching?"

"Right now, where to get my hands on a beer."

Kevin heard, smiled, liked him, "Coming right up."

Methos looked at Amanda, who was still staring at him, and asked, "Where are you living?"

"In a loft above a dojo, I'm so glad Mac came to his senses and bought it back from Wally. I also live on a barge in Paris. Although I still have my villa in Tuscany."

"MacLeod still hasn't come to his senses, huh?"

"Ha, ha," she wasn't really sure if he was kidding or not and didn't like it when he teased her. Methos could get too close to the bone with some well chosen words.

Methos leaned close to her and suggestively commented, "Or better yet, you're not tired of boys?"

Duncan came back to the door, carrying a guitar case. "I heard that. Look who I found loitering in the halls." When he moved aside, Joe walked in.

Methos smiled and patted Joe on the shoulder, "Hey! Even when we're in the same city, I don't see you. Where have you been?"

"On the road. My new CD just came out. Have you bought it yet?"

"First thing in the morning, Joe," Methos promised with a smile. "First thing in the morning." It was good to see him again.

"You'd better," Joe said, then walked to his daughter and held on to her. "How is my girl?"

"I'm glad you're back, Joe." Amy laid her head on his shoulder. Instantly her crappy day faded and she felt a calm wash over her.

Joe looked around, "I thought you said Liz was coming tonight. Is she running late?"

"Running is the operative word there, Joe," Amanda said as she hugged him.

Amy countered, "She was here. She had to leave."

Joe was disappointed, but he was still among old friends he couldn't wait to catch up with, "Oh, well. Let's eat."

Over dinner all the immortals caught up with each others lives since they were last together, and with Joe, and found out more about Kevin and Amy's romance and lives. Methos was cordial, even sweet. He did have a soft spot for Amy. He'd challenged for her. Or was it for Joe? Or was it for himself? He was thinking that he should have taken care of Walker himself years before, then remembered that Joe had been telling him that repeatedly all the years since the incident. 

Methos hustled Joe into the kitchen for a private talk after they enjoyed dinner and the bee hive. After positioning himself against the counter, Joe said, "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Methos softly laughed, "That depends on how you take it."

"Well, come on, let me have it."

"How old is she?"

Joe shrugged, "Who?"

"Elizabeth Bennett."

"Around Amy's age."

"She's immortal."

Upon receiving that information, Joe had to take a chair by the table. "She is?"

"Yes. Can you find out where she's from and where she's traveled for me?"

"How?"

"You have access to information."

Joe smiled a tired smile. "I retired, remember."

"Oh, come on," Methos jerked his head. He always had to beg for any scrap of watcher information from Joe when it was freely given to MacLeod, whether he wanted it or not. "You still have contacts."

"We've had this conversation before..." Joe didn't like to remember when his daughter was held captive by Walker, someone Methos should have taken care of long before Joe's ancestors were born. "What do you care?"

"I've seen her before, I just can't place her. It bothers me."

"So you aren't all knowing, all powerful?"

Methos sighed, "I'm not Superman, Joe. I'm only immortal."

Joe repeated, "Only immortal..." It was a gift to have everlasting life, one that Joe at times would loved to have, he sometimes didn't like how immortals took it for granted. 

"Although it would make life a lot easier if I were Superman..." Methos mused. "But how many times does one have to say, 'I'm just a guy'?"

"Yeah, you're just a guy who likes to have his friends do his work for him." Kevin came in with some dishes so Joe carefully continued, "Do it the old fashioned way, Adam. Keep me out of it." 

Methos finished his beer and helped himself to another from the fridge. After Kevin left the room, Methos said, "She lives right across the hall from your daughter. Does that give you comfort?"

Joe, not liking how Methos always jumped to the worst conclusion, frowned, "Liz is Amy's friend. Hell, she's my friend. She's a good woman." 

Methos leaned close to whisper, "But she's got secrets, doesn't she? She has a history you knew nothing about."

That angle finally seeped in for Joe. "Why didn't I see that?"

"You don't have the power, Joe."

Methos was an immortal, and Joe figured he should take his comment into consideration. "If you find out anything bad, let me know. She's close to my daughter." Then Joe shook his head. "But you won't. Liz is a solid, trusting woman." A twinkle filled his eye when he said, "No fan of my music can be all bad. And I'm a good judge of character."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm friends with you, aren't I?"

Methos smiled, Joe always was quick. He tried one more time, "You know you can get the information faster than I could."

"Whatever happened to talk to her?"

"She bolted out of the room as soon as I showed up."

"Why? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing!" Exasperated, Methos moaned. "Do I have a sign on my back or something?"

Amy set a tray of asperifs on the table for everyone. Duncan and Amanda politely declined and made their departure. They wanted quiet time together to talk about their reclaimed romance, this time around they wanted to spend quality time together.

After they made their departure, Methos and Kevin both reached over for a glass, not missing a beat in their discussion of Japan. Kevin, a junior marketing executive for a banking company, had just come back from Tokyo on business, and Methos hadn't been there for centuries. Amy and Joe did a little toast and sipped. 

When Methos and Kevin resumed their conversation, Methos stopped in mid sentence when the tingling sensation crept up his back. There was an immortal buzz in the air. 

Amy noticed the lapse in conversation, even though she really wasn't listening and asked, "What? Oh! Is she back?"

Amy walked out of her apartment and saw Elizabeth unlocking her door. "Hey, what happened earlier?"

"I was thinking they would have gone by now," she said, walking into her place. "Its pretty late."

"Blame Japan. You get Kevin talking about work and he doesn't stop," Amy said, slipping into the hallway.

Not wanting to be vulnerable out in the open hallway, with at least one immortal just feet away, Elizabeth was impatient to get behind her locked door. "Goodnight," she said hoping to curb any further conversation Amy may have in mind. 

As usual that did not do the trick with Amy, who followed Elizabeth into the apartment. "It's late, Amy," Elizabeth said, trying to steer Amy back to the door. "I have classes tomorrow."

Amy wouldn't be put off. She said, "You can't expect me to find out you're immortal and not talk about it."

"Could you keep it down?" Elizabeth had expected them to have told her, but immortal came out of her mouth so easily. Amy Thomas must have known about immortals for a long time. "How do you know so many?"

"They're friends of my father's."

"How did he pick them up? Joe's not immortal."

"He was a watcher."

"What's that?"

Amy was talking to her friend, not some immortal who wasn't supposed to know of the watcher's existence, still she didn't know if she should let Elizabeth in on things, so she said, "A researcher."

"Of what?"

"That was just his job description. He's retired," Amy said putting her off. She looked at the furnishings in her friend's apartment for the first time with the new knowledge that Elizabeth was much older than she appeared. Elizabeth taught history at NYU, with a specialty in Civil War Studies. Amy looked at the framed historical pictures on the walls and the cavalry sword in a case in the corner and wondered if they were actually her personal possessions. Was that union cavalry sword that Amy saw all the time actually Elizabeth's weapon of choice? Had she ever used it to slice off the head of an opponent? Amy just couldn't picture Elizabeth doing that, with any type of sword.

Elizabeth set her purse on the sofa and rubbed her arms as she kicked the radiator. It was cold on the walk home from the movie she caught at the theater a few blocks away. Amy wasn't leaving and she didn't want to be rude. "Do you hang out with a lot of immortals?"

"Obviously, I don't know. I didn't know you were one of them."

"How does Joe know about us?"

"I can't..."

"You can tell me anything. My goodness, Amy, you have. I've seen you through two relationships!"

Amy figured that if she gave a little, maybe Elizabeth would too. "My father was a watcher. You don't know what that is, do you?"

"No. Should I?"

Since she trusted Elizabeth with every secret she ever had, she knew the information would be safe with her. "They are a group of people who watch and record the lives of immortals. Every known immortal has one."

Elizabeth took a step back. Maybe that was how Joshua Logan always found her. There'd been someone following her? "You're shitting me," she said, hands on her hips.

Amy laughed at the response, "No," but then sobered when Elizabeth didn't match her reaction.

"What? They follow us around? Record what?"

"What you do. Who you see. Where you go. How you play the game. Who's heads you take. When your head is taken."

Elizabeth stared at her friend, stunned. Amy knew everything about immortality and it had never come up once in any of their many conversations. Watchers... they're assigned to immortals like we're lab animals to be monitored? "I've had someone following me and didn't know it? When did this start?"

"There have always been watchers; at least for the last thousand or so years."

"That can't be. I would have seen one."

"They're not supposed to let you see them. Immortals aren't supposed to know about them. It's a secret you have to keep. Watchers only watch and record, they never interfere."

"What for?"

"So an accurate history can be chronicled of you, all of you."

Elizabeth tightly laughed, let it sink in that she'd had a tail and didn't know it. How could she be so stupid? Wait! If she had one, Logan had one also. Maybe that would be the way to find him, or lure him out of hiding, or something... she had to get him out of her mind. The deadline for his reappearance in her life was getting close.

Amy said, "Liz, I don't know why you ran out like that this evening. We're all friends. You didn't even give us a chance to explain."

Elizabeth shook her head. Other immortals couldn't be trusted, not at all. 

**##################**  
**SAN FRANCISCO**  
**MAY 1920**  
**##################**

Holy ground, St. Mary's Cathedral in the middle of the city, was packed during mass. In the middle of the sermon, Elizabeth felt the tickle of an approaching buzz. When she turned to scan the church, a tall, blond immortal named John Dieterle caught her glance, and smiled. She didn't believe she had anything to fear. She was so naive! 

After the service was over, John approached Elizabeth suggesting they talk during a long walk. That evening, they danced the charleston at a club; laughed and drank and she ended up at his place. It was a very flagrant thing to do at that time, but it was too easy to be manipulated by his charms and his baby face. 

After two months together, John and Elizabeth were having a nice, quiet picnic in the park. A rolling river supplied the music for the afternoon, the sun was shining bright and the birds were singing. Dieterle lifted a glass of wine and toasted them. "Aren't we perfect together," he smiled at Elizabeth. They hadn't known each other for long, but there was indeed a spark that Elizabeth hadn't felt since her beloved first husband, Teddy, was killed in Fredricksburg during the Civil War. 

On that perfect afternoon, with the glorious sun overhead, a mild wind and the park seemingly to themselves, Elizabeth smiled and felt a tingle of excitement. She fully expected him to propose to her. She'd never thought about attaching herself to an immortal after the death of her teacher, but John Dieterle was someone she certainly could visualize herself with 50, 100 years down the line. He was so sweet to her, they could get through the game together, protecting each other. Her needs were the most important thing to him, or so she thought. When he kissed her instead of drinking his toast, she closed her eyes, totally his. 

What Elizabeth didn't know, was that John had opened his eyes during the kiss and was looking into the trees. He nodded to the phantom that hovered out of sensing range, and pushed her away, looking into her eyes. "Let me say one thing up front, Lizzie."

"Yes," she smiled, fully expecting a proposal.

What he said was, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly she felt another immortal near. She swung her head around towards the trees and just about fainted when she saw Joshua Logan, the one legged Irish immortal who turned her in 1863 and murdered her teacher in the summer of 1880. She screamed, wondering how a handicapped man could get the best of her when she least expected it. Logan limped toward her. She didn't have her sword, thinking she was safe with John and his. Before she could make it her feet to get the hell out of there, Dieterle grabbed her arm and pushed her to the ground. 

Because she fought with all her will, John had to punch her in the face so she'd be more manageable. She kicked and screamed, "What are you doing?!" He rolled her over, smashed her face into the grass and pulled her arms together behind her. Logan, when he limped close, threw a rope at them and Dieterle tied her up. "I trusted you!" She screamed with all her might, "You said you love me!"

Dieterle droned once again that he was sorry as he tied a bag of rocks to her bound wrists. "It's a wonder what money can do," Logan said as he kicked her in the face, breaking her nose. He leaned down to peer into her face while she howled in agony from both the pain and hopelessness of the situation. "It's time, once again, for you to remember just who I am. I will always win, Elizabeth Tennison. I believe you may have forgotten that."

"Please," she pleaded with John. "He'll kill you, too. He can't be trusted. He's going to kill me, then he's going to turn on you!"

Logan said, "She's a raving lunatic! Do it!"

Dieterle picked her up and throw her into the river. She screamed, "You son of a bitch!" As the water rolled down her throat, burning her lungs, she tumbled to the bottom struggling to get free. She could see her two enemies clearly through the water but she couldn't rise to the surface. Logan handed Dieterle a wad of bills, not a sword to the stomach, which she thought he deserved. That rat bastard! 

**_Kill him_**__, she urged Logan on, this time wanting to see the senseless massacre he would levee on whomever she attached herself to. But he didn't do it. Logan just slapped Dieterle on the back for a job well done and hobbled away as Elizabeth sputtered and died, snared amongst the rocks on the river bottom.

It was days before the current of the river unwedged her and she drifted with it. She awoke against a rock on the riverbank. She had to dislocate her shoulder to move her arms from behind her back to her front so she could untie the rope with her teeth. 

Laying on her back on the beach, she took long, deep, calming breaths. After popping her shoulder back into it's socket, she cried from the pain and the turn of events. But then she held in the pain and thought back to how she'd gotten into this predicament in the first place. Logan didn't kill Dieterle. He must have liked his work. Had John Dieterle been working with Logan all along? If so, then Dieterle was as heartless and cold as Logan. She had a mission. The first thing she had to do was get her sword.

**#######################**  
**RENO**  
**ONE MONTH LATER**  
**#######################**

Elizabeth had finally tracked down that rat bastard, John Dieterle. He had registered in a hotel where she was able to bribe the night clerk for his room number and a key to let herself in. 

Dressed in black and in the deep of night, she burst in on him while he was poking it into a ditz. John didn't have time to collect himself from the buzz before Elizabeth pushed him off the bed. Grabbing the whore by the hair she threw her out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Dieterle rolled to his feet and charged across the room, toward his coat. She stepped on it, and lifted her blade to his neck. If he hadn't come to a dead stop, he would have decapitated himself.

"Lesson number one," Elizabeth announced with her blade to his neck. "When you ambush an immortal, you make sure they're good and dead!"

Dieterle backed up, eyes flickering between her blade at his throat and his sword wrapped in the coat on the floor under her foot. The hilt was visible. He could easy topple her and get to it. "How much did Logan pay you," she seethed.

"I needed that money." He thought to explain and wore a mask of guilt trying to look like he was 'oh so sorry'.

"Do you still have it all? Or did you have to pay her a mighty sum to fuck you?"

He reached out and belted her for that remark. Elizabeth blindly swung the sword. She was surprised that her blade hit its mark. She felt the pressure of her blade slicing the area between Dieterle's head and shoulders while she was facing the other way. When she heard his head slap against the dresser and his body fall at her feet, her only emotion was that of a job well done. She giggled when she realized she hadn't had a clear challenge and fight in years and even though this wasn't one either, she would receive the bastard's essence with little or no effort.

She accepted Dieterle's quickening with anticipation and laughed at the quickness of his decapitation. What had she been worried about? He didn't even put up a fight. The mark on her cheek where he hit her would heal... and he never would! When the lightening crackled through the room, into her, and out her body, it broke the window; broke the kerosene lamps, spilling kerosene over the tables and onto the floor. Smoke filled the room. Throughout the quickening, Dieterle screamed in her head and that's when she found out about his arrangement with Logan. He had been approached by that one legged asshole after they had been together for a month. Then there was nothing; no thoughts of what he felt for her. How could John be such a lackey for someone he'd just met because he had a lot of cash? Elizabeth thought he was a better man than that and was disappointed to learn it was all about the money. Nothing more exotic or more satisfying.

As she straightened up and relaxed, she heard people in the halls, wondering what happened. Elizabeth grabbed the money in John's pockets and wallet. After pulling the rest of the broken glass from the window, she climbed out and ran down the alley. When she was safely blocks away from the hotel, she acknowledged that she couldn't trust anyone in this world until Logan was 'sans head'. He was better at escaping than she was. 

Elizabeth looked for years and could not find Joshua Logan. Five years later, newly settled in St. Louis she started her life again with her new motto, 'Mortals Only'.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY**  
**2000**

Logan had ambushed her three more times in her life when she least expected it, until she finally saw the pattern. Every twenty years, in July. This year Elizabeth had gone on vacation during the summer to make sure Amy, Kevin, Joe, Eliot, her students, fellow teachers were safe, no one in her life would be hurt. 

Logan either couldn't find her or he was dead. That was what she hoped, that Logan had come upon another immortal and hadn't walked away from the challenge. How long could a one legged immortal last? What did she do to him that was so horrible that he had a vendetta against her? Did he even think about her during the 20 year down time between losing his leg and his first attack on her and her beloved teacher, Hotohke? Elizabeth didn't know the answer to any of those questions, she just hoped it was over and that Logan was history. But she also couldn't believe she'd be that lucky.

Amy was looking her friend over with the new found knowledge that she was an immortal, who was suddenly so quiet, it almost scared her. Elizabeth muttered as she stared out the window, "I'm learning more and more every day." The existence of the watchers, and the knowledge that each immortal had one, meant that perhaps Elizabeth could track Logan. If he was still alive, she could ambush him for once!

Amy said, "I'm not sure I should have told you that. There can't be any contact between immortals and watchers. None."

"Like Joe and those people this evening?"

"It's a different situation. Joe's retired."

"How many watchers do you know?"

"Just my father." Amy didn't tell her that she'd made and kept friends while she was one of them. One of her bridesmaids was still in the watchers, but naturally wouldn't say a word. 

"Is he still over there? Joe?"

"No, he had a club date tonight."

Elizabeth opened a drawer of the desk in front of the window and took out a painted piece of leather and held it absently between her fingers, rubbing the etching designs whose paint was starting to crumble. Amy asked her, "What's that?"

Elizabeth looked down at her hands, not even realizing that she had picked it up. "A soul catcher." The one material thing she had left of her Ojibwa teacher.

"A what?"

"Where does he live?"

Amy took her eyes off the leather, surprised by the question, "Who?"

"Joe. He recently moved. Where does he live?"

The question gave Amy goose bumps. Her friend didn't look like her usual self. There seemed to be a wall that had built up between them. To Amy, Elizabeth had a look in her eye like someone who was sitting in the tower with a rifle ready to fire. "Why?"

Knowing that her question came a little too fast and was too telling, Elizabeth shrugged. She didn't have an answer that would make Amy feel better, so she said nothing. She looked down at the soul catcher in her hands, then put it back in the drawer. 

"Liz, I don't like that look on your face."

"I can't trust anyone."

"Of course, you can. You can trust everyone that was in my apartment tonight." Amy looked at Elizabeth and still couldn't get over the fact that she was immortal. "How old are you, anyway?"

"32."

"No, not when you died, when were you born?"

"Why does it matter? I'm still the same person you've always known."

"I know that, but... it's amazing, I can't believe it."

Elizabeth about had enough, she wanted solitude, and was angry at Amy's intrusion. "I've known you for five years, Amy. I haven't changed. You know about immortals. You put two and two together and came up with three?"

Amy glanced at her again, except for the hair that was longer, she realized that Elizabeth looked exactly as she did five years ago. "Are you very young and that's why other immortals scare you, or what? How did you die? We have a whole area of conversation that we've never examined."

"And we're not going to."

"You weren't born and raised in Brooklyn and you didn't work hard to get rid of your accent like you told me. You also told me you've never been out of the New York area in your life."

"Amy--," Elizabeth opened the door, hoping she would get the hint.

Instead, Amy stood her ground, "Tell me who you are!"

Elizabeth slammed the door, "I'm your friend. I'm a history professor at NYU. I've been married six times. And that's all you have to know."

"**_Six_** times? When you married Eliot, you said it was for the first time." When Elizabeth realized that Amy was flabbergasted, she shrugged.

"Did you really go to college at NYU?"

Amy didn't like her stare, but waited for an answer. The true answer. Elizabeth gave up and said, "No. I went to the University of Pennsylvania."

"When?" Long pause. "I'm not going to let it go. You've lied to me."

"What do you expect? You expected me to tell you that I started college in 1890 only two weeks after I meet you? Be serious!"

"1890? How old are you?"

"Will I still be worthy of your friendship if you know?" Elizabeth spouted. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Yes."

"I was born in 1831. I died in 1863. I went to college in 1890 so I could make a life for myself. I've been a history professor at 14 different universities. I've been a nurse in four different wars. I've been married six times. Do you like those numbers?" She was really seething by this time. "My first husband was killed in the Civil War. My second husband was killed in a car accident in 1946... My third husband..." she tried to shake off the memory, "Died..." was murdered by Logan... she couldn't think about it! 

She skipped the rest, but Amy knew about one, so she included it, "Eliot, you know about. That's my life. That's it. The 1800s was my turning and training, the 1900s was me giving my life over to men. Satisfied?"

Amy's mouth hung open. "No. I can't believe it. I thought I knew you."

"Where does Joe live?"

Elizabeth was back to that, and Amy didn't like it. "Why?"

"He has what I need," Elizabeth stated very cold, very determined and the intensity of the statement made Amy's skin crawl. The last thing Amy would do is tell this sudden stranger anything she wanted to know about her father. In fact, with the dangerous look in her eye, Amy was feeling a little apprehensive just being in the immediate vicinity.

* * *

**NYU**  
**MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2000**

Elizabeth's lecture was on the Battle of Gettysburg in Civil War Studies, she was finishing up with the candid moments that were known about the fabric of the battle. "Pickett, to his dying breath, hated Robert E. Lee for killing his men, by putting them in the position of fighting at a disadvantage in the first place. He knew Pickett's Charge wouldn't work and was probably a little more than peeved that it was named after him." 

A hand went up in the middle of the group of seated students. "Yes, Katie?"

"Robert E. Lee is revered as a hero," Katie whined. "Even in the north."

"That's true," Elizabeth said, moving around the lectern. "But there were mistakes made by him during the war. You have to understand that, they were still, in their battle plans... fighting the Revolutionary War; regiments storming lines... It didn't work anymore and it took a long time and a lot of casualties for the men in power to figure that out. The weapons were more sophisticated. Some commanders, such as Chamberlain up on Little Round Top, used textbook maneuvers like he was taught at West Point, maneuvers from previous wars, but with a twist. The Civil War produced numerous patents for weaponry. Sometimes, when a battle was finished, such as with the Ironclads, all of a sudden, everything changed. For example as soon as the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimack was finished, every single floating army on this planet was obsolete."

Elizabeth could get carried away in her recounting of the war that occurred during her turning. She saw the battle of Gettysburg with her own eyes. In a flash, Elizabeth heard the guns and cannon firing, while nursing the wounded in her saloon that had been turned into a makeshift hospital. Thankfully, she saw she was losing her class' attention and stopped.

"Getting back to your question, Katie," Elizabeth smiled. "General Lee had charisma, he was smart, thorough. One thing that did make him a hero was the fact that he accepted his faults and failures. And put yourself into Pickett's shoes for a moment. His battalion was sacrificed on the fields south of town." 

Elizabeth moved back to the map on the wall behind her desk, took a moment to once again look at it. She could pick out where her tavern was in the 'diamond', the center of town. And her home growing up, to the south. 

Not wanting to lose herself so personally in the past, she pointed to the area northeast of the small town. "Lee knew that Jeb Stuart had scouted an area out of town, a clear area, perfect for a battle."

Turning back to the class, she said, "Lee knew where the bulk of the north's army was. That's were Longstreet wanted the battle to be waged. Nobody but Lee wanted their men to fight on a hilly, tree-filled landscape that would provide camouflage for the enemy to hide behind." She turned back to the class and paused. "A fair fight, that's all they wanted." That's all everyone really wants. Except Logan. And Dieterle.

"Why did they do Pickett's Charge, then," a guy in the back asked.

"Well, Pete," Elizabeth got her mind back on the class. "Lee was already dug in. The battle lasted three days. The first day of fighting was a confederate victory. If reinforcements hadn't arrived for the north from the flatlands, they might have won the battle. There's conflicting evidence and no one really knows for sure why Lee was adamant about staying right where they were, and continuing the battle..."

"It's a guy thing," Julie piped up, making some chuckle.

"That could very well be," Elizabeth smiled at her favorite student in the third row. "Pride played a factor in a lot of battles in a lot of wars. I think Lee just wanted it done. I think he saw, or at least prayed for, the end of the war with that charge. And he picked Cemetery Ridge to the south of Gettysburg to be that victory. There's also unsubstantiated rumors that Lee was very ill at the time. That he'd picked up pneumonia and was vomiting and had diarrhea, and couldn't physically be moved, so he had his men fight." 

When the bell rang, she quantified what she just said with, "That's unsubstantiated and will not be on the test. Just something else to think about. Test tomorrow and then onto Vicksburg and Chickamauga."

The students walked out, grumbling about the volume of information that would be on the test. One student shook his head and said, "Jeez, she knows so much, you'd think she was there."

"I know," said another. "Half of what she had us take notes on wasn't even in the textbook."

Elizabeth smiled and said to them, "You shouldn't have signed up if you didn't want to learn something."

They did a double take when they realized that she heard them and walked out. She sat at her desk, smiling at the thought of what she could put on the test to see if they were paying attention, then tightened with the sensation of a buzz. Immortals couldn't be taking over her school too! She moved toward the closet where she had hidden a sword behind a fake plywood wall she'd put in when she first got the teaching position, she had never yet needed to use. 

Duncan MacLeod appeared at the door. He was alone. He wasn't threatening. In fact, he didn't even look at her. The posters and graphs on the walls of her classroom took his total attention. She opened the closet door and demanded, "Now what the hell do you want?"

"That's quite a greeting," he smiled.

"I have another class in twenty minutes that I have to prepare for."

"This will only take two tops," he said as he walked to her desk. "Amy told me how you reacted to her knowing about you. The fact that you got so jittery around us makes me wonder why."

He didn't go for his sword, but she was leery anyway. She tossed out, maybe a little too argumentary, "Do I know you?"

"I'm a very good friend of Amy's father."

She looked around. There was only the two of them in that large classroom, but their voices could carry if they weren't careful, so she whispered. "Do you like walking into a den of immortals? Do you always run in packs? I don't like immortals who run around together. I don't know who in the world you are and I don't care. Just stay away from me."

"We were invited to Amy and Kevin's party because we're friends. We're nothing to be afraid of. Yet you left anyway."

"Amy didn't tell me immortals were coming."

"I take it you aren't a challenger," Duncan closed the closet door, making Elizabeth walk back from him, while calculating if she could make it to the hall before him. "But Amy said something interesting this morning. After finding out about Joe's former profession, you asked where he lived. Why did you do that?" Duncan moved between her and the door to safety. "Joe is an old, dear friend of mine. I don't like him being dragged into immortal business."

"I have nothing against Joe. I like to think I'm a friend of Joe's myself. I'm a big fan of his. But he's a watcher."

"Was a watcher."

"Was, yes," Elizabeth agreed. She didn't know how Joe could help, but she needed it desperately. She'd be damned if she gave any of her thoughts away to the immortal who busted in on her home and her workplace. "So, it doesn't matter, then, does it?"

Duncan moved closer to her and whispered, "I don't know YOU from Adam, either, but if I find out you do anything to Joe Dawson... we're enemies, not friends."

She couldn't literally stand nose to nose with him, he was a good six inches taller than her and Elizabeth should have been intimidated, but she wasn't. "I heard you. Must be nice to have such friends to stick up for you. I never have."

Students started drifting into the classroom. "Maybe you pushed them away before you realized they were friends?" Duncan softened his face for her benefit, but it wasn't until he left the room and his buzz faded that Elizabeth finally relaxed.

On her way home, Elizabeth was able to snare a seat on the subway and sit back after the long day. Feeling someone watching her, she locked eyes with a blond man across the car. He had a faint scar on his forehead and wore a blue denim buttoned down shirt and jeans. On his feet were those ugly, but very popular sneakers that Elizabeth hated. They looked like they weighed a ton just on their own and should be worn only by athletes and children. 

His eyes darted away from her when she stared at him. Only now that she finally knew about watchers did she noticed the mortals around her and spot one. Or he could have just been looking her over. She wasn't used to it, but seemed to remember that men did look at her on occasion. It was amazing what a filandering husband could do to even an immortal's self esteem.

She turned her attention to a little girl sitting with her mother. That little girl was a beauty. When Elizabeth eavesdropped on their conversation, she heard, "Do you think we should get me a better agent, Mommy?" 

Her mother said as she scanned the trades, "Oh, we can give Martin another chance. You should have played Bruce Willis' daughter, but Martin has a lead on that remake of National Velvet. We'll see what comes of that, first."

When the train arrived at her stop, Elizabeth got out, along with a hoard of the other passengers. The denim man, was one of them.

Elizabeth got off the elevator in her apartment building and marched straight to Amy's door and rapped on it. When Amy answered, she happily announced, "Good news! My dress finally fits."

Elizabeth walked in and slammed the door behind her, "How could you tell them what we talked about? I thought I could trust you of all people!"

Amy stepped back, not expecting wrath from her friend, "What are you talking about?"

"The tall one with the ponytail paid me a visit."

"That's Duncan MacLeod."

"A complete stranger knows what we talked about. I was telling you, not the New York Post!"

"Duncan is a friend," Amy said. 

"A reinforcement, you mean? Did I scare you or something? Have you told others about me and what I've been saying all along?! I don't appreciate it, Amy! He could find out where I am."

"Who?"

"If he finds me..." she couldn't go on. She didn't need immortals talking to each other about her. Sooner or later, Joshua Logan could find out. It wasn't Amy's fault and Elizabeth didn't want to blame her, but the fear that had gripped her heart ever since meeting up with Duncan MacLeod and his friends wouldn't recede. Maybe Logan knew about watchers and that's how he'd always found her. How could she be so dense as to not notice a tail for so long... all her life? 

"Just," Elizabeth said, "Keep your mouth shut okay? Or we can't be friends anymore."

Elizabeth walked out, letting the door slam. When she got into her own apartment, Amy appeared. "I don't have any idea what you are talking about, Liz. Just explain it to me. Maybe we can help you. You seem to need friends."

"I thought you were a friend, Amy." She pulled open the drape an inch and looked outside on the street just to verify the nagging suspicion she'd had, about that man in denim on the subway**,** that he could be a watcher. There was the same denim man across the street leaning on a building, pretending to read the Daily News. "I need to get away for a while."

"Sure, after the wedding..."

"No, now."

"You can't! You're my matron of honor. You have to be there."

"You don't understand, do you? Logan's probably bribed them to ambush me already. They're just lying in wait."

"That's ridiculous."

"Logan needs help to get at me and he always finds it. It is very real and it's been twenty years. He strikes every twenty years. In July. I went away for the summer, remember? I thought I was safe."

Elizabeth took a breath and muttered. "I can't ever be safe, not here, not anywhere." She needed to find out who that man on the sidewalk was and who he worked for. Without another word, she left her apartment and ran down the stairs.

Twenty years.... A phrase like 'he comes after me every twenty years' came so easily out of Elizabeth's mouth, Amy took a second to grasp it. When she went back to her place, she tried to call Joe, thinking that's where Elizabeth was heading. She just didn't seem like the same person since Amy found out about her secret. She couldn't even look her in the eyes. There was no answer at Joe's, so Amy called Duncan's hotel room. Methos answered the phone.

"Hello, Adam? This is Amy. Can I talk to Duncan, please?"

"He stepped out for some ice."

"I really need to talk to him, Adam."

"Hang on the line. He'll be right back. What's the problem?"

"Liz is scared of a..." she was going to say immortal, but her watcher training was so ingrained that she didn't speak freely over unsecured lines. "She's just scared. She's ready to take off before the wedding."

"If she's uncomfortable, it's the best thing to do, leave." Methos didn't feel it was necessary to let on to Amy that Elizabeth's leaving would make him feel better too. He still couldn't place the woman and it irritated him, not knowing what event they might have had in common.

"Adam, she's an attendant in my wedding on Saturday!" Methos had to hold the phone away to protect his eardrum from the decibels. He could never remember having seen or heard of Amy being so boisterous, except when she stormed out of Joe's bar when she found out he was her father. She'd calm down, he'd just let her talk. Amy quieted, "It's not just that. She's my friend. My best friend. We're like sisters. Do you know where Joe is?"

"Not at the moment, but we're off to see him play tonight."

Duncan came back. Methos said, "Just a sec," and handed the phone to him. "It's Amy. She's looking for Joe."

Duncan put the phone to his ear and said, "Hi, Amy. Joe's playing at Michael's tonight, you didn't know that? We were going to grab some dinner and watch him. I kind of enjoy watching him after he watched me all those years."

* * *

Elizabeth came around the corner, walked right up to the denim man and put her face right in front of his. "What do you want? Have you been taking notes? Let me see them."

He jumped back, was confused, fumbled with the paper in his hands, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't like the fact that you're following me." She grabbed the newspaper and flung it in the air. 

"Hey!" He picked up as much of the paper as he could catch before the wind took the rest. "I didn't get the box scores."

"Drop the charade! I can't be 'recorded'. Do you get that?" She looked at him and wondered if she would be able to get information on Logan from him. No, Joe was a friend and as long as she kept calm, Joe might be willing and able to help her out.

"What?" The man's demeanor and tone of voice made it seem like he actually didn't have a clue as to what she was talking about.

She stood back and put her hands to her hips and stared at him. "Are you honestly going to tell me that you aren't a watcher? You're standing outside my apartment because you're following me!"

"I live here," he pointed to the building he was leaning against.

That stopped her, she paused, looked at the building across the street from her own. "Then why aren't you inside?"

"I'm meeting a friend and it's a nice day. Is that against the law? Look, lady, I don't know what in the hell you're on. I might have been interested on the subway, but..." he shook his head. "Forget it."

She couldn't believe she was wrong. It just felt so right. Or he was keeping tabs on her for Logan. "Where do you work?"

"In the village."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a furniture refinisher." His answers were so quick, could be true. He continued, "Are you through bothering me? Can I get back to my life now?"

Elizabeth stepped back, embarrassed. "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"Just chill out," he said as she walked away. "It can't be all that bad."

* * *

**HOTEL**

When Duncan hung up with Amy, he was sorry that he might have added to Elizabeth's fear with his visit and voiced that thought to Methos. Methos only laughed, "You added to her fear? You?" The concept was ridiculous and Methos couldn't stop laughing. "What did you say to her?"

Duncan didn't think it was so funny, "That if she hurt Joe, she's toast."

"Smooth." He actually giggled; wondered if dealing with Ingrid had made Duncan MacLeod, of the clan MacLeod, finally treat women like equals. MacLeod always was a slow learner, but he was getting smarter all the time. "Why did you have to resort to such threats?"

"She asked Amy where Joe lived after learning he was a watcher and they have files on immortals."

Methos' eyes tightened, and he lost his jolly. "She's hunting someone?" Duncan shrugged and put on his coat. Methos asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going over to talk to her."

"What?" The mortality cop of the immortal world was certainly consistent. "That woman's a good one to stay away from."

"I can't believe that. Amy said she was scared. She seemed scared when I talked to her."

"Whatever she's scared of is a good reason to stay away from her."

"I may have inadvertently added to her paranoia, Methos."

Methos shrugged, "What's it to you?"

Duncan had his coat on and waited by the open door, "Are you coming?"

"No."

"Then get out. You'll go through my things while I'm gone."

"I could wait here for Amanda..."

"Amanda spotted a sale at Bloomingdale's. I'm going to call her on her cell phone and tell her to meet me at the pub."

"Oh, all right."

* * *

Methos had hovered around the perimeter while Duncan went into Elizabeth's building to speak with her. He leaned against the building across and down the street and waited for 'Dudley Do Right' to emerge. It didn't take long for Duncan to walk back to Methos and tell him she wasn't home; they walked to Michael's. 

They reached the door and felt a buzz. Casing the area, Duncan stood, ready for anything, Methos said, "I've got beer and Joe's new CD at home. I don't need this," and started down the block, away from the sensation. Amanda appeared, full of details about her shopping spree.

Duncan whirled and yelled, "Adam!" Methos looked back to see the source of the buzz was only Amanda, he hesitated, then thought that it would be nice to see Joe and his band live, talk more with old friends before they leave town... he joined them at the door.

* * *

**MICHAEL'S**

Joe wasn't at the club. His band said he called and was on his way, but that was over an hour ago. It only took ten minutes to get there from his apartment. Duncan and Amanda stopped to debate what that might mean; Methos got the grumbling in his gut that told him something could be very wrong and Elizabeth Bennett may have something to do with it. When Amy and Kevin walked in to hear her father perform, Methos made a beeline for them. "Where's Joe?"

"He's not here?" Amy was suddenly worried, especially since she was looking at three worried immortal faces. 

"We don't know where Elizabeth is, either," Duncan informed Amy.

"What would Liz have to do with Joe being late?" Kevin felt foolish for asking immediately upon seeing three doubting faces looking at him. 

Amy thought Elizabeth wouldn't harm Joe... would she? There was so much she didn't know about her friend, and she could keep a really big secret. What else was she hiding? Did she have a killing impulse? Could she be a killer of mortals? Then a overwhelming thought came to her, "Is Joe listed?"

"His phone number?"

"His new address," she nodded at Duncan.

Duncan called information and asked for the address of Joseph Dawson, Manhattan. The operator told him his new address. He told them, "Yep."

"Oh, God," Amy said. "But she wouldn't..."

"If she hurts one hair on Joe's head," Methos said. "She really will be toast."

Methos walked out to find Joe, Ivanhoe ready in his coat, and the others followed. Amy caught up to him on the sidewalk, had to almost run to stay in step with him, "Liz doesn't have a dangerous bone in her body, Adam. She's scared and sure that someone's after her."

"This cropped up all of a sudden?" Duncan had to ask. "Someone's suddenly be after her?"

"She's insane," Methos had already determined.

"No, she's not," Amy said to both of them, trying to keep up with their longer legs. "But she said there's been someone after her all her immortal life and of course she wouldn't have let me in on that, she didn't even tell me she was immortal. It seems she got shook up only after you all arrived. She also said she'd been ambushed by immortals before."

"Why was she ambushed? What did she do to piss them off?" Methos asked, trying to get a handle on that immortal woman.

Amy was about to spit tacks at him, "Liz isn't the villain here, she didn't do anything."

"Oh," Methos condescendingly asked, "Did she tell you that?"

"Adam, she's scared. I never saw her like that before."

Just around the corner from Joe's building, Methos stopped, felt a buzz. A few steps later, the buzz drifted to Duncan and Amanda. Amy and Kevin stopped, too. Kevin, studying the faces of the three immortals wondered what their sudden lack of forward motion could mean, asked, "Is Liz here?"

"Someone is," Amanda said, looking around like the rest of them. The immortals put their hands inside their coats. The feel of the hilt in their hands gave them all extra confidence.

Shots rang out down the block from Joe's. Amy started to run towards the sound but Kevin stopped her. "No way," he demanded.

Amy yanked at her arm, screamed, "Liz wouldn't shoot Joe!"

Duncan ran past them towards where the shots were fired and they ran after him. Amanda was going to follow, but Methos held her back, letting Duncan do it, since running head long into the fray was his nature. Amanda grabbed Methos' arm and pulled him around the corner. There was a blue sedan, three men, and two figures lying on the sidewalk. The man on the ground lay with his legs at impossible angles. The woman was lying on her back. 

The three men standing over them saw Duncan running toward them. Two jumped into the car, the other one, who had a prosthetic leg, was madly slashing Elizabeth's body. He flipped her over on her stomach and pulled her head up by the hair. When he neared, Duncan brandished his sword and stated, "Don't even think about it!"

Joshua Logan let go of her head and fell into the waiting car. He was getting tired of playing the game with the immortal Elizabeth. It was time to end it. He was convinced that when he finally took her head, he would be at peace. That he could live the rest of his days without another thought for the bitch and her friend who had mutilated him in that dark alley in Gettysburg in 1863 and turned him into what he was, a man he hated. Yes, he would do it! But! He wasn't about to with immortals standing around, ready to take his own head while he savored her quickening. 

The car sped off after Logan was pulled into the back seat by one of the flunkies he'd picked up for the evening's excursion. The young man yelled, "You didn't tell us there'd be people in the area!"

"I didn't think there would be," Logan moaned, and slapped his hand with frustration against the front seat head rest. The Irish brogue he thought he'd buried tumbled out from the excitement, and the failure of the attack. "She picked up body guards..."

The driver said, "You didn't mention guns either!"

"I mentioned money!" Logan yelled, to quiet the peon. "That's all you have to concern yourself with."

The kid in the backseat with him asked, "What was the shit you did to the woman back there? What's with the sword?"

Logan pointed it at his nose and said, "The money included no questions!"

"Man..." the teenager in the passenger seat moaned, "Let me out. I don't want anything to do with this! I thought we were mugging, not killing!"

* * *

Amy made a beeline straight for the man on the ground that she knew was Joe. His cane had broken during his fall and his left leg had come loose. "Joe! No!" she cried as she fell to him. Kevin run after the car. Methos knelt at Joe's other side and gently turned him over, he did **_not_**__ like the sight of the blood, or the hole in Joe's coat and shirt. Duncan and Amanda, meanwhile, turned over Elizabeth. She was still alive, gasping for breath. There was a gunshot wound to her stomach and a multitude of slashes on her chest, shoulders and arms. Amanda took in the sight and moaned, "Good God... why?"

Elizabeth grabbed Duncan's collar and hiked herself into a sitting position. He put his arm behind her neck to stabilize her. She tried to talk, but couldn't with all the blood in her throat. She wanted to ask if Joe was alright, if Logan and his helpers were gone, if he'd been in on the ambush with Logan, why... what had she done to the man to make it his mission in life to see her dead, but play with her first? Carlton was only trying to save Logan's life. He had no idea what that man was and her sister-in-law, Marcy, was an innocent. They were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Then she recognized the man holding her up as Duncan MacLeod. Could he have helped Logan ambush her? Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, she shook, gasped, didn't want to die and be vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do with her. Then, all beyond her control, her body relaxed and her head fell back over his arm. She died thinking she would be decapitated by them and said a quick prayer.

Methos screamed as he tried to stop the flow of blood, "Joe! Come on now, talk to us."

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Chapter Two - The Surgery

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	2. Surgery

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES  
CHAPTER TWO **

**SURGERY**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: DM, M, A, J, Amy OCs Elizabeth, Kevin, Joshua Logan, Darrell Foley

**SUMMARY**: Continuation of series: Joe was shot by Logan and gets Methos to want revenge.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY  
SEPTEMBER 4, 2000**

Joe was pissed about many things as he laid helplessly on the sidewalk in front of his building. For starters, the guns had come out of nowhere. For another, he wasn't able to get out of the way quickly enough . Another, he was in massive pain. Lastly, there were hands all over him. He fought off Amy and Methos. "_Just leave me alone!_"

Methos opened Joe's shirt to inspect the damage. The bullet had gone into his shoulder making his right arm useless. "You're going to be alright, Dad," Amy said, catching Joe's attention, and suddenly making the pain and anger lessen. She held her hand over the wound to help stop the flow of blood, which only made it seep up between her fingers and down her hand. Methos took off his coat, then the button down shirt he wore over a T-shirt. He bunched up the shirt and laid it over Joe's shoulder to soak up the blood.

"Hey," Joe smiled at Amy. "Why couldn't you have called me that while I was still on my feet?"

"I haven't thought I'd lost you before. I'm not going to lose you too, am I?"

"No," Methos firmly pronounced, to calm them both. He opened Joe's shirt to check where the blood was coming from. 

Kevin ran back, winded, and announced, "I got a license plate. AXD 776. It's a Jersey plate."

Duncan said, "Good work. Write it down," Amanda put her arm around his waist as he stood up after Elizabeth died.

Methos said, while tending Joe, "AleXanDer the Great. First Olympics were in 776 AD. It's etched in my brain."

Joe said, "Help me up. Who were those guys?"

"Why don't you tell us," Methos said as he and Amy held him flat on the ground.

"I have no idea. They came out of no where." Joe looked at Elizabeth then Duncan. "She saved my life." Methos glared at the dead immortal's body, finding that very hard to believe.

"What happened?" Amy took her coat off and put it under Joe's head for a pillow.

"We were talking and heard a car come speeding around the corner. I saw a door open," Joe sputtered. Then he looked back over at Elizabeth's corpse. "She pushed me. I might have gotten that plug square in the chest if she hadn't."

Elizabeth violently revived. She rolled and got to her knees while the healing lights formed all over the front of her body. Hating what the healing did and how it felt, she screamed as the bullet hole and the sword slashes sewed themselves up. Sometimes, during the healing process, which could be even more painful than the injury, she would think it might be better to just have it all end. She'd died too many times for her comfort and the thought of Logan still out there waiting for another shot at her didn't lighten her mood. Elizabeth felt a hand on her back and pushed it away, "Don't touch me!"

Duncan lifted his hands and stepped back and said, "Fine."

She felt her neck and wondered if she was in heaven. Judging by the pain she couldn't be, she had to be in the land of the living. Duncan didn't take her head, and that truly surprised her. She screamed out, "Joe?!"

"I'm right here," he said.

"Oh, thank God," she said as she crawled around Duncan's legs toward Joe. No longer concerned with the immortals who could have taken her while she was dead, she focused on Joe, "You're bleeding. Are you all right?"

"I've been better."

Methos seethed, "He's been shot, lady!"

"I didn't see him coming," she told Joe. She noticed the rest of them looking at her as if it was all her fault. "I didn't see him coming... I'm sorry."

Amy asked, "Was that the guy who's been after you?"

Elizabeth nodded then grimaced realizing that Amy had told them absolutely everything, but, Joe was her main focus. She inspected Joe's wound on his right shoulder. Methos thrust her hands away from his friend. "You've done enough!"

Elizabeth sat back on her ankles, wounded by the dismissal and let Adam Pierson take over the medical detail of Joe, a gunshot victim that she knew she could help. She'd patched up such wounds during the four wars she worked as a nurse, from the Civil War all the way through to the events in Vietnam that had never officially been declared a war. Adam looked like he knew what he was doing, but she still wanted to get in there and do it herself. 

She caught a confused glance from Amy, who had just recently found out about her immortality. Now she could see the bloody remnants of what they did to Elizabeth all over her shirt.

The denim man was just around the corner, talking into his pocket tape recorder, excited because what he had been expecting for so long had finally happened. Her chronicle was full of reports of Logan attacks and he'd wondered if they were real or creative record keeping from watchers who were bored following her. She stayed away from other immortals, thus, there wasn't much to chronicle. "Elizabeth revived following Joshua Logan's attack. I think he would have taken her head if the other's hadn't shown up. One of them brandished a sword, so he's immortal, but I don't know who he is. I'll have to look it up later to add to the report." The rapidity of his voice didn't slow as he whispered the evening's events into the macro recorder. "Joe Dawson was shot. I've already anonymously called an ambulance for him, but... wait!" 

He peered closely at the sidewalk where they laid. "The immortal and another man are lifting Joe up. They're carrying him inside."

Elizabeth held Joe's hand when Methos and Duncan lifted him to the door. Methos said to her, "You! Go!"

His voice boomed at her and she dropped Joe's hand. "I can't leave him."

"Get the hell out of here!"

She thought that if Adam had his hands free, he would have flicked his hand like he had so long ago in Wyoming. She thought it was him, but it wasn't until the moment when he yelled, that she sure of it. Elizabeth stood aside for Amanda to go into the building carrying Joe's broken cane and his left leg that had come loose. Amy grabbed her arm and Kevin pushed them both through the door.

* * *

When they got to Joe's apartment, a siren blared on the street. Kevin went to the window to look outside and commented, "There's an ambulance out there." 

"Somebody saw what happened?" Amanda asked.

Duncan and Methos deposited Joe on the couch and then laid him down. "Get me some towels, a knife, warm water, and something to pull the bullet out with," he told Amanda. With the light shining on Joe's body, the mass of running blood seemed to radiate. 

Elizabeth scrutinized Adam as he put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. She asked, "Are you a doctor?"

Methos cringed from the sound of her voice. Why didn't anyone listen to him? "What are you doing here?"

She didn't have time for his orders, Joe needed tending, not wishful thinking that the wound would go away, so she repeated, "Are you a doctor?"

"I was."

"How long ago?"

"I still know what I'm doing, if that's what you're insinuating," he replied, irritated that she was still there.

"Well, I've been a nurse and I've done this before. Recently. Let me do it." The first gunshot wound she patched up was on a Union soldier after the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg. Those wounds were horrid, gaping, mangled. 

"Recently? For one's you've shot?"

"No!" Elizabeth tried to calm herself, the adrenaline rush from the night's events hadn't yet abated, but she couldn't get into a pissing match with Adam. He was too self-righteous to reason with, it was all her fault, and Joe was too close to losing too much blood to survive. There was no time for an argument over who was more qualified to lead in the extrication of the bullet.

Methos unbuttoned Joe's shirt to get a look at the wound on his right shoulder. "Have you had a lot of innocent bystanders that needed stitching in your life?"

Joe whined, "Don't fight over it, just get it out!"

"I will," Methos said. 

Joe held his hand up to stop Methos from touching him. "Maybe she's more... delicate, if you know what I mean," Joe winced. "The last time, I think you cut more than you needed to."

Methos wondered when he would ever get credit for anything! Joe had been dying after Jacobi shot up the execution scene. But he had to admit that he was nervous working on him, "You're still alive."

"Barely!" Joe was using a lot of the little strength he had left. 

Duncan said, "Somebody do it!"

Amanda came back with the supplies and Elizabeth said, "There's got to be better light."

Elizabeth went through the apartment looking for things she'd need, collecting things as she went along. One of the first things she took was the bottle of Scotch on the liquor table. Methos and Duncan lifted Joe again and he grunted from the pain as they brought him into the kitchen. Kevin pushed the mail and a coffee cup onto the floor and they laid Joe on the table. Amy flicked the switch and the flourescent over the table blinked, then glowed. 

Amanda set the supplies down next to Joe and said, "What do you need to put him out?"

"Anesthesia would be nice," Elizabeth said, then went to search the bathroom.

"Maybe we should call up that nice, clean ambulance," Joe said.

"A gun shot wound would be reported," Duncan said.

His comment didn't mean anything to Kevin. "So? Whoever did this should pay for what they've done!"

"This is immortal business," Duncan said. "We don't let the police into what we do."

Joe grimaced from the pain. It was getting hard to breath and he was feeling weak from the loss of blood. Amanda pointed out that they couldn't perform surgery with him alert. "Just hit me over the damn head!" Joe yelled, then cringed from the exertion, it required effort just to breathe.

"Funny," Methos smiled.

"Then just do it. It hurts already..." Joe was fading.

Methos grabbed a towel and soaked it in the bowl of hot water, then started to clean off the area around the wound. Elizabeth appeared from the bathroom with a shaver,a glass of amber liquid, a bottle of peroxide, and a bottle of hand sanitizing gel that she set on the table by Joe's hip. She hunched over Joe, putting a glass to his lips, "Drink this."

Methos grabbed the glass, slipping some of the liquid on Joe's chest. "What is it?"

"I found some sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. I crushed one into a shot of scotch."

"Sounds good to me," Joe said. 

"Okay," Methos lifted Joe's head as he drank it. 

Elizabeth looked at Methos next to her. "Excuse me," she said. "I'll need room."

"We'll both do it," he said as he looked at the slashes in her blouse. She wasn't concerned with the fact that her chest was exposed through the slits. Amy had seen it and came out of Joe's bedroom with a t-shirt. 

"Thanks," Elizabeth said as she pulled it over her head. She asked, "Did the bullet go all the way through?"

"I don't think so," Joe muttered, sleepily.

She smiled at Joe, "You're still awake?"

"Barely," Joe shut his eyes.

Elizabeth and Methos gently turned him on his side. Methos got on the other side of the table and helped keep his right shoulder off the table for inspection. Elizabeth lifted his arm to pull it out of his sleeve, but Joe groaned. She picked up a scissor, cut away the sleeve and gathered the material under Joe's back. Blood had dribbled down his armpit and onto his back, but there wasn't an exit wound. 

"Okay," she said, letting Methos hold Joe up. She took another towel, dipped it in the bowl of water and wiped at the blood to make sure. "You see anything?"

Methos looked, just skin. "Nope." He gently laid Joe back on the table. His eyes were closed, he still had a pulse, but it was weak. 

Methos, checking his wrist for a pulse told Elizabeth, "Just to be sure that sleeping pill mixed with alcohol didn't kill him in his state." It was steady.

Elizabeth wiped the blood from the wound and told Amanda to sterilize the paring knife. Then she tied a kitchen towel over her face as a mask. Amanda asked, "With what?" She handed her the peroxide she got from the bathroom with one hand while she wiped Joe with the other. Methos pulled Joe's shirt out from under him and they both saw the scar left by Jacobi's gunshot. Methos cringed, this mortal had been through too much, checking the pulse on his neck again**;** it was still steady. Elizabeth rubbed sanitizing gel on her hands and scrubbed them together.

Elizabeth poked and pinched at Joe and he didn't move. She hoped he wasn't in a deep sleep that prevented movement but allowed him to feel every little thing. Just get it over with fast. With the razor, she shaved the area around the wound that Methos had cleaned off. Amanda handed the paring knife to Elizabeth and she made a tiny incision through the round entry wound. Methos watched every move she made on his friend intently, even moving to her side of the table to get a better angle. He looked at the bottle of foreign substance she had put on her hands. Sanitizing gel. He'd never heard of it, but he wasn't in need of the product himself. Methos used the gel on his hands, rubbing them together, making sure he got the liquid under his fingernails. He helped pull the skin apart after the incision was made.

Duncan watched their work from the end of the table, holding Joe's head. Amy and Kevin stood holding each other as they watched the surgery. Elizabeth spread the flesh away at the wound with her fingers, found broken bone. "Have you ever set a shoulder blade," she asked Methos. He shook his head but said, "We'll have to wing it," as he covered his face to prevent germs from being transferred to Joe. 

He worried about the unsanitary conditions they were working under something he himself never had to think about it. She brushed at the bone gently with her fingernail and a small piece came off. The rest of the shoulder blade was solid and pure. She lifted the small piece out of Joe's shoulder and held it up. "He can live without that, can't he?"

"He's going to have to," Methos said, gently searching inside Joe for the bullet. "Ah, found it."

She put the bone chip in the bowl and looked at the silver that Methos found embedded in Joe's shoulder. He couldn't get a hold of it. "I have fingernails," she said. "Let me do it."

He moved his hand away and she squished her fingers toward the bullet, trying to grasp it between her nails. She almost had it, but it wouldn't loosen, it had been flattened by impact with the shoulder blade. Every attempt to get a hold of it tore more of Joe's shoulder. "I need tweezers or something."

Amanda got one out of her purse, poured peroxide over it and handed it to Elizabeth. She gave it back. "Something bigger. It's too small."

Kevin had found a pair of tongs from Joe's drawer and said, "Will this work?"

"No. That's too big," Methos said. 

"Does he have a screwdriver or chopsticks, anything?" Elizabeth straightened up, working the kink out of her lower back. The blood on her was dried and itchy. Sweat poured down her forehead and neck. "I could use the knife, but I don't want to cut him anymore than I have to. What do you think?" 

Methos wiped at the blood that collected in the hole, created by the surgery, on Joe's chest. "That knife has a pretty wide tip."

Amy got the tool box from his closet and set it between Joe's feet on the table. They rummaged through it and found dirty, rusty pliers. She held them up. Elizabeth grimaced. "There's not a chance in the world that could get sanitized." 

Methos dabbed at the blood that filled the cavity, "Find something, quick!"

Elizabeth looked in the box and said, "That screwdriver will work."

"Sure," Amanda smiled. She pulled them all out and poured antiseptic on them .

Elizabeth stood back, not wanting to touch the unsanitary tool, saying, "Not the Phillips, the flat ones, the smaller the better."

She was so nervous she had never done this before, especially on a friend. Amanda slapped the small flat head screwdriver she had sterilized in her hand like she'd seen on ER and Elizabeth waited for Methos to clean the blood from the area so she could see the bullet. She stuck the screwdriver alongside and under the bullet, nudged it. Methos' head was right next to hers as he scrutinized her work. "Do you want to do it," she asked him.

"You're doing fine. Just, get under it."

As she took a deep breath and steadied her hands she realized that Methos had taken a deep breath also. She took another and held it, to make her hand as steady as possible. She positioned the screwdriver under the bullet and wedged it free, then pulled it out with her fingers and dropped it in the bowl. They all took a breath. "Needle and thread," she asked. Duncan handed her a needle, already sterilized and threaded. "Wonderful," she said, then sewed him up. 

* * *

Duncan and Methos changed Joe's clothes and put him in his bed while Amy, Kevin, and Amanda went into the living room for a well deserved drink. Elizabeth took a shower to finally get the blood and sweat off her. The tension and fear didn't leave her no matter how hard she scrubbed. 

When she got out, she looked at the condition of her clothes. Her shirt was shredded, her pants were all bloody, even her shoes. She wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door a crack, hoping to find Amy or even Amanda to help. 

Adam walked by. "Hey," she said. He turned to her at the door. "Does Joe have any clothes I can borrow? My are kind of kaput."

"I'll see," he actually smiled and walked back into Joe's bedroom. She waited behind the closed door until he tapped on it and said, "This is all I could find." He nudged a black undershirt and a pair of khakis and a belt through the narrow opening of the door.

"Thank you," she said, then was surprised by the appearance of a pair of socks too.

Amy, seeing that Adam and Duncan had finished getting Joe comfortable in bed, went to him. He looked so frail, so vulnerable. Things she'd never seen that man exhibit before. He was always strong, reliable Joe. Amy sat on the bed and took his hand. Lifted it to her mouth and kissed it, praying that he would heal. 

She was jealous that some of the immortality that his apartment was overrun with couldn't help him. After losing her mother, she could not lose her father. He was so pale. Did he need blood? He lost a lot on the table. Should they get him to a hospital for a transfusion?

When Elizabeth came out of the bathroom, she saw that the kitchen was cleaned up. She wanted nothing more than whiskey to calm her shaky hands. The pants and belt were way too big. She looked through Joe's drawers in the kitchen and found a ball of twine. She cut off a length and put it through the belt loops on the khakis and tied it so they wouldn't fall down before she got back to her apartment.

She walked into Joe's bedroom and found Amy sitting with him. When she neared the bed, Amy looked at her, the woman she'd known as a teacher and a friend. In the last 24 hours, she found out Elizabeth was immortal, had an immortal after her and she could patch up a gun shot wound. Amy's mind boggled to think of what else she would find out. Elizabeth misjudged Amy's reaction to her being there, and was going to make a quiet, but quick exit. Before she could leave, Amy grabbed her hand and said, "Thank you so much."

"He wouldn't have got shot if I stayed away from him."

"This isn't your fault."

Amy looked at Joe, caressed his face, kissed him on the cheek and stood. Looking at Elizabeth with the new found information, she said, "So, you're a surgeon too?"

"No. Nurse. I've unfortunately had a lot of practice taking out bullets. Wars can't seem to be waged without them."

Amy looked at her, learning so much about Elizabeth in so short a time was unreal. "A nurse? You're a trauma nurse too?"

"Only when need be. I really don't like that line of work."

"Well, you saved Dad's life. Thank you."

"I got him shot."

Amy walked to her and hugged her. "Enough of that. Who was he? That immortal?"

"My nightmare."

"Come on and tell us about it."

She led Elizabeth out of the bedroom and into the living room where the others had gathered for a well deserved drink after a long day. "That man almost took your head," Amy said as she sat by Kevin.

Elizabeth stood in the hallway entrance, waiting for retribution from the group**;** Joe's friends and his daughter and future son-in-law. "Did he?"

"Yes. It was only after he saw us that he took off."

"He never went that far before," she said and leaned against the door frame, thinking she wasn't welcome. That knowledge didn't help calm her. The one hope that she had held onto, to help her get through the last hour**,** was the idea that Logan was through for another 20 years. Maybe it wasn't over. He would come back for her head. Why did he want it now? Had she learned enough for him to finally want her quickening?

Methos asked, "Who is he?"

Amanda gestured to the last glass from the bunch they'd brought into the living room, "Help yourself."

Elizabeth examined the coffee table that doubled as a 'bar'. "Is anybody else drinking whiskey?" They all shook their heads. "No need for a glass then." Only after two big swallows did she say, "His name is Joshua Logan."

"Never heard of him," Duncan said.

"You haven't heard of the one-legged immortal who shoots first?"

Duncan shook his head. "How did you meet up with him?"

"He turned me."

"Why?"

"Revenge, I guess," She shrugged, it was the only explanation she had come up with after years of asking herself that same question. "A friend of mine cut off his leg."

"Some friend," Methos muttered.

"He only meant to do good," she told him, all of them. "Carlton was only trying to save his life."

**################################  
GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA  
JULY 3, 1863 2 AM  
################################**

After the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg, the fatalities were almost overwhelming for the residents of that small town. Elizabeth and her dead husband owned a hotel-tavern in the 'diamond', which was the town square. Because of it's size, the Tiger's Eye Inn was used as a make shift hospital for both Union and Confederate casualties. 

After the long day of bandaging, assisting and talking to the wounded, Elizabeth walked out onto the front porch and stretched, she had never worked as hard as she had that day. She worked out the kinks in her back from bending down to the floor, hunched over crying men, and breathed in the fresh but gun powder laden air. A shudder went up her back when she reflected on the magnitude of the carnage left on the men's bodies.

The town butcher, Carlton Spencer, walked out and stood by her. She noticed the hacksaw in his hands along with other tools of his trade he brought into the fray of the day. They nodded to each other. 

They stood in silence, there was nothing to say. No words to express what they had done and seen. Just thankful it was finally quiet. Elizabeth had a bottle of whiskey in her hands, only a couple of inches left on the bottom, but it would make her feel better. After taking a sip, she handed it to Carlton. He took it and raised it in thanks, drank a bit, leaving some for her.

He lit a cigar and took a couple of puffs. He noticed Elizabeth spying the cigar. He handed it over. She was surprised. Women did not do such things, in the presence of men. "I won't mind," he said. "You look like you could use something to help you relax."

She took it holding it awkwardly, then inhaled from the end like she'd seen men do in the saloon. It was the worst thing she could have done. She thought she'd never stop coughing. He laughed and pounded her on the back.

"Yes, that was very relaxing," she choked.

"You have to start small and work your way up to a full inhale, Ma'am," he stated.

They heard a scuffle of feet in the alleyway. Elizabeth followed Carlton to the corner and peered around. There was a rebel and a yankee in hand to hand combat. Both men were like angry dogs shoving, punching and kicking each other. They fell together on the street and rolled as they choked, hit and scratched each other. 

Carlton tried to pull them apart. "Stop it!" he shouted. "Haven't you done enough?"

The rebel looked up at them from atop the yankee, jumped up and reached into his coat. Before the other man could get to his feet, the reb took out his pistol and shot the yankee on the ground, making both Carlton and Elizabeth jump from the surprise and the sound. Carlton tried to stop the rebel but he ran off. 

The union soldier rolled from side to side, howling in pain as he held his leg. Elizabeth reached him first. "Sir? Sir? It's all right," she said, like she'd been saying for two days to gunshot victims. 

Carlton dropped to the ground and stopped the soldier, "Let me see the damage!"

The yankee ground his teeth and tried to stop the man from touching him. The pain was intense**;** he couldn't stop the shudder that vibrated from the wounded area, above the knee, on it's way through his body and up to his heart. Carlton didn't like the look of the wound at all. The bone was shattered and the skin had shredded from the rolling. Mud and blood mixed and flowed out from the gash at a heavy pace. He yelled at Elizabeth, "Get my tools! This man is going to bleed to death! Hurry!" He looked down**;** there wouldn't be anything to sew together. That leg had to come off.

She ran for the tools and whiskey bottle on the porch of the saloon and ran back to them. The yankee was saying in a foreign accent, "Don't touch it. It will heal!" A lot of the men who fought the Civil War were immigrants and some didn't even speak English, but that yankee's accent seemed cultured, wildly out of place.

"Sir! You're leg isn't a leg anymore," Carlton yelled, trying to settle the man down. "You need a solid foundation to be stitched up or you'll die! Let me help you. Liz! Where are you?"

"No! It will heal I'm telling you! Don't touch it!" The soldier screamed as his leg flopped away from him at an awkward angle.

Elizabeth came back and Carlton grabbed the hacksaw from her hand. "No!" She shouted, "Let me at least find some morphine or..."

Carlton grabbed the whiskey bottle from her hand and poured the few drops that were left onto the leg wound. The yankee howled from the fierce pain of alcohol poured over an open wound. Manically brushed at the wound, making it worse. "Don't touch me! I'm warning you! It will heal!"

"They're all so damn optimistic," Carlton said as he through away the bottle and grabbed the man's leg. Elizabeth tried to take in the accent the man was using. It seemed English, but harder. He suddenly seemed out of place. He wasn't American. She asked Carlton, "Are you sure? Let me find Doc." It seemed so barbaric to just hack off a leg without an examination from a qualified medical doctor... but Carlton had seen a lot of wounds that day. He'd seen a lot of deaths from blood letting, maybe he knew best.

The soldier was ready to pass out from the pain but was still fighting. Carlton fought to control his leg and yelled, "He's losing too much blood! Hold him down!" He pulled her to the ground and she landed over the man's chest. The soldier pushed her, but was weak. She held his shoulders steady as Carlton positioned the saw higher up on the leg than the wound.

"We don't even have thread to sew him up! Carlton, think! You're going to kill him!"

Elizabeth was surprised by the suddenness of Carlton's thrust with the saw. She thought she saw blue sparks form around the saw blade. Carlton flinched, "Ow! It shocked me!" 

The yankee screamed from the pain of the saw embedded in his leg. "Get it out! It will heal! Just give it time! I have to relax and it will heal! Don't cut it off! I'm warning you!" He grabbed Elizabeth's face and looked at it, studied every line and curve so he could remember. "Don't let him do this! You're one of **_us!_** Get him away from me or you will all die! I'll see to it! You'll **_pay_**! You'll all pay!" 

Carlton again clamped onto his leg and sawed. The man shrieked as his leg was separated just above the knee. Elizabeth thought she was going to faint from the splash of blood that spouted from the stump. She turned her head away and saw her young sister-in-law, Marcy.

Marcy, having heard the commotion, ran to them. "What in the world?"

Carlton stood and said, "We need a needle and thread. We have to close this man up."

He pushed Elizabeth to the saloon. "Now!" The yankee was whimpering, laying on his side, looking at his detached leg. Marcy, who had seen enough butchering to last a life-time and thought it was over, at least until the battle started up again, cried out, "Why? Why did you do that?"

"He was going to lose it anyway," Carlton stated, keeping his hands on the end of the stump. "The sooner the wound's closed, the better."

"But, Doc might have been able..."

"This man didn't have a leg left. It was torn apart. Shredded." Carlton pulled the skin tight to the end of the bone and tried to hold it tight to stop the bleeding. "Where is that woman? He's going to bleed to death!" 

Marcy knelt down to the soldier, saw a look in his eyes that she would never forget. His face did not show the relief she'd seen on many of the men they helped, it reflected pure evil. Even so, she took his hand to calm him, it was what she was best at. Cutting up sheets and bandaging and talking to the men before the doctor or nurse could get to them, that's what she was best at.

The officer grabbed her, yanked her closer. "It would have been as good as new if you hadn't interfered! Damn you to **_hell_**__!"

The look on his face and the strength of his grip scared her and Marcy wretched her hand back, stood up, backed away. Carlton was stunned. Blue sparks again appeared, this time at the ends of the skin he held, making him jerk his hands back. He stared as the skin folded on it's own and fused together. The stump finished healing and the end product looked like the head of a drum, tight, no seam at the stump. Before Carlton could utter a word of shock at what he witnessed, a knife slid into his back. The tip of the blade was visible when he looked down at his chest. Marcy screamed as the yankee pulled the knife out of Carlton and pulled himself up on his remaining good leg. Marcy was rooted to the spot, shocked at what she witnessed.

The soldier hopped to get his balance on one foot and stared at the woman. Marcy was hyperventilating from the shock and couldn't move. She could only whisper, "How?" as he moved toward her with the bloody knife in his hand. She screamed when he clamped his hand on her shoulder.

Elizabeth ran through the maze of covered bodies, trying to sleep on their make-shift beds in the saloon, with a needle searching for some thread. She found a roll in the corner and ran out the back door with it. Expecting to see the injured man with Carlton and Marcy, she was shocked to see two bodies on the street. It took her a moment to realize who they were.

When she did, she screamed, "Marcelene!" She ran and fell on the ground next to her. "No!" She reached out her shaking hand to Marcy's neck, felt the bone. "**_No_**__! Oh, my **_God_**__!"

**NEW YORK CITY  
JOE'S APARTMENT**

Elizabeth finished her story for them all. "Logan kept hollering that it would heal, but... that's what all the wounded cried out. They didn't want you to touch them. Just leave them alone, as if some magical power would swoop down and take care of them." She blanched when telling the story to such a somber panel, knowing now that Logan did indeed have a magical power to take care of his wound. 

"How were Carlton and I to know that he was speaking the truth?" After taking another gulp of whiskey, she said, "So, I found their bodies in the alley. The one legged man was no where to be found. Only one set of footprints led to the street. No one saw him. Everyone thought I was crazy when I told them how they died, or how they must have died."

Elizabeth took another swallow and realized they were watching her closely. "After the battle ended and the soldiers were gone, we buried them. I was almost convinced I was indeed crazy and the exhaustion and the massacre of the war in our backyard played tricks with me. Then, he came back."

**##############  
GETTYSBURG  
JULY 10, 1863  
##############**

The whiskey bottle in her desk was the only liquor she didn't turn over to the union cause. She drank straight out of the bottle, finishing it up. She picked up the photo of her husband Teddy, who had lost his life in the Battle of Fredericksburg the December before, and wondered what he thought when the end came. She had been so sorry she was unable to see his body one last time; then grateful she hadn't, she'd seen enough death. 

Alone, and sleepy, with Teddy's picture on her chest, she slumped down on the settee and closed her eyes. She didn't hear the door open downstairs, or the foot on the steps. Only when the yankee opened her door did she open her eyes. For a second, she had the thought that it was Marcy.

The whiskey had doused her brain and she was dizzy as she sat up. Then she screamed when her eyes focused on the figure of a one legged man who, using a cane, made his way across the room to her. Before she could stand, he fell on her. They scuffled, fell on the floor. He pulled a knife out of his coat and held it to her throat.

"I should just take your head now for what you did to me," he said, mouth inches from her face. "But I won't. It will be that much sweeter later, once you've developed." She pushed out at him, but his bulk kept her on the floor. He sneered, "You learn well, girlie. I'm going to look forward to your quickening!"

He moved the knife lower and she couldn't move a muscle. He told her, "My name is Joshua Logan and we will meet again!" Then he jammed the blade into her side, and twisted it. He enjoyed the sight of her bulging eyes, her open mouth gasping for air, her hands futilely groping for help. When she relaxed and died, he was happier than he felt in a long time. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, biting and pulling her bottom lip.

When he got to his feet, he saluted her. "We will meet again, dear lady," he smiled. "Then I'll take your head."

**HOURS LATER **

Elizabeth revived from the stabbing, dazed, wondering if she was in heaven. Initially there was pain, then blue healing lights appeared, she had no idea of where they came from or what purpose they served, then there was no pain from the stabbing she knew she had experienced. Her room looked the same. Maybe that's what God did, made a room just like what you're used to so you can acclimate to heaven. The blood on her dress and the floor gave her pause. Wouldn't God have washed away the blood?

It was early morning and she could clearly hear the children, who were again allowed to play outside once the battle was over, from her room. When Elizabeth stood, she saw her reflection in the mirror above the bureau. The soft wind rustled in her window. After sponging the blood off herself and changing clothes, she rolled up the blood stained rug, put it in the closet and went downstairs. Then outside to take a walk thinking it would clear her mind, still believing she was in heaven and would eventually meet up with her husband, Teddy. and her sister-in-law, Marcy. 

What she saw on her long walk south of town was splintered trees and puddles of blood on the grass. A couple of the people from town were scrounging around the vacated battlefield, looking at the ground for mementos. The stench of gunpowder and death still hung in the air. "This can't be heaven," she intoned as she looked around the surroundings of the once peaceful farming landscape, where just a week before, not much ever happened. "This can't be heaven at all."

As she was making her way back to town, she saw something glitter in the tall wheat stalks. Was it a soldier who had not been found and buried? Was it an answer? Was it a sign from God? She walked towards it. The glint came from a long, bloody cavalry sword. Normally, the sight would have sicken her. Weapons of any sort scared her, the blood on it's blade should have reminded her too much of the misery she'd witnessed the last week. It should have been abhorrent to her, but she leaned over and picked it up, by the blade. 

A bead of blood flowed down her finger. She dropped the sword. She put the cut to her mouth then pulled it out when she got the shock of her life. Blue sparks swirled around the cut and**, **as she watched fascinated, the blood stopped flowing and the skin reconnected itself. After brushing the finger off on her skirt, she inspected it. There was smeared blood, but there was no trace of an injury.

Lightheaded from the sight, she staggered. There wasn't any way she could explain that to anyone! She headed back toward the safety of town, but stopped and turned, looked at the sword on the ground. She felt that if she didn't take it, she would be leaving something behind. For some reason, she needed that sword. Was it a macabre souvenir of the massacre? Or something more? She had no idea what that more could be, but leaned down and picked it up again, by the hilt. Held it. Swished it around in front of her, got it tangled in the weeds, scraped it along the ground.

When she got back to her room, she wondered if it was all a dream. Caused by the grief of losing everyone in her life. There wasn't anyone to give her answers, or to talk to about her 'dream'. She was already the poor widow, also the brazen woman who owned the tavern and had rooms for rent, she didn't want to be the raving lunatic, too. They were still talking about how she actually thought a dying union soldier with a freshly hacked off leg killed two strong, young people. Their version of the incident was a reckless rebel who butchered all in his path.

**NEW YORK CITY  
JOE'S APARTMENT**

They all had listened to her story, once in a while, Duncan, Methos or Amy getting up to check on Joe. Amanda asked her, "Logan just turned you and left you to figure it out yourself?"

"That's right. After the war was over, I traveled the country on horseback, trying to find an answer to Carlton and Marcy's deaths, my own, why I was still here. It was a confusing time to say the least and my only friend was my horse, Pilgrim."

**_################  
_VIRGINIA 1867**  
**_################_**__

One night after setting up camp for herself and putting a can of beans over the fire, she heard a shuffling in the woods. Then she realized she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach**.** The sensation wasn't just the fright of the unknown out in the woods and she knew it. It was a ringing sensation, like a buzzing. She was surprised to see an Indian standing amongst the trees, just out of the campfire's light. She grabbed the rifle she purchased in Pittsburgh and aimed it at him, suddenly scared to death remembering all the stories she'd heard of savage Indians. 

The Indian smiled and walked toward the campfire light. "There's no need for that, Anovaoo'o [young woman]," he said. He wore buckskin from head to foot. His long black hair was gathered in a pony tail and he had a non-threatening tone of voice. His face was solemn but not at all threatening. His eyes sparkled from the flames of her campfire as he edged near her, very slowly so she wouldn't feel the need to use the firearm.

If she had learned one thing in the four years since meeting up with the dagger, it was not to trust anybody. "Stop right there!" Her voice sounded much more in command than her nerves as she directed the rifle at his chest, it's long barrel swaying from fright. She looked him over to determine if he was carrying a knife. 

He just held out his hands saying, "I am not here to hurt you. I felt you as I was walking back to my home. You are one like me. Don't you know that?" 

Elizabeth didn't like hearing pretty much the same words used by Joshua Logan, the man who had killed her, 'that she was like him.' "What do you mean? I'm not an Indian."

"No, but you are an Immortal."

"A what?"

The Ojibwa, Hotohke, was shunned from his tribe after his first death 500 years before. When he revived after a poisoned arrow pierced his back and killed him, his tribe thought evil spirits had taken over his body and that he would bring nothing but wickedness to them all. He was asked to leave and Hotohke left without trying to convince them that he wasn't evil. Hotohke didn't even known if they were right or not. He was certainly alive when he shouldn't be. In his travels, he was found by another, who had been found by another, another link in the chain of immortality.

As he looked at the young woman standing by the fire with a rifle trained at his heart, he knew she was scared. She must be a new one. He softly stated, "You've had an unexplained trauma." The buzzing sensation had softened and his voice remained so tranquil. Elizabeth lowered the weapon wondering if this man would have the answers she had been searching for these past four years. Hesitant, she asked, "How do you know?"

"You've been killed."

"I'm dead? Really dead? This is heaven?"

"No. You are simply not what you thought you were all your life. Let me explain it to you." She still held the rifle in her hand. It wasn't trained on him now, but it could be in a moment. Hotohke motioned to it, "We have no use for modern weapons. We rely on the sword."

Her eyes darted to the cavalry sword she'd felt the need to have after her death. Its hilt was sticking out of a rolled cloth in her wagon. "Come with me," Hotohke suggested. "I'll tell you all you need to know."

The pull was great and she stepped closer to him. He shook his head. She stopped. "You have to leave that," he pointed at the rifle. 

Instead of wondering what she had gotten into, or who the man was, or if she was in danger, she simply laid the rifle down on the ground and stepped closer to the great Indian. When he smiled and held out his hand to her, she gladly accepted it as the first offer of acceptance from another human being since she was turned four years earlier.

Hotohke brought Elizabeth back to his home, just a mile away from where she was camped, and provided her with all the answers she had been searching for. As he handed her another piece of bread that she hungrily accepted she said, "So the one legged man who healed... he's one like you."

"And like you. You cannot die unless you lose your head. All wounds will heal given a little time."

"I'm not crazy," Elizabeth smiled, relieved. "It actually happened."

She felt better than she'd felt in a long, long time. The air flowed into her lungs easier, there wasn't a sense of burden on her shoulders. She giggled, felt young. He stood and walked to the corner of the tent. When he sat down next to her again, he had a sword in his hands and held them out to her.

"This is the extension of your arm, your heart, your soul. You do not use a rifle. Take this. I will teach you to use it."

"I already have one of those."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"You hold on and swing?"

"It helps if you know how to hold it and most important, how you swing it. There is a technique, a... finesse. It's your survival. You must learn to use it."

**DURING THE NEXT MONTH **

Elizabeth was not a good student at the start of her training, but Hotohke was patient with her. He laughed at her a lot, but she didn't get angry or embarrassed. His laugh was light, but seemed to come from the base of his gut. During their training, he was patient. She asked how many immortals there were. He said he had no idea, but he had come across many, so there must be many more. 

She stepped back from her teacher and took a little breather from the full morning's exercise, "You don't by chance know Joshua Logan?"

"No," he said, keeping his sword up. "We haven't crossed paths." He stood on guard, waiting for her to rejoin him.

"He's the one who killed me" she said angrily.

Hotohke sadly shook his head, "He'll have to deal with that when he journeys to the spirits."

"Joshua Logan," Elizabeth stewed, let her sword drop to her side. "I've said that name over and over again in my head. I want to find him. I want to kill him and now I know how."

He solemnly shook his head, in full teacher mode when he said, "You will have the spirits angry at you if you seek out immortals. You only fight when you have to. When there is no other way. When you are on the right side."

"I am on the right side," she argued. "He turned me and knew what he was doing. He killed me."

"But you still live," Hotohke argued. When would she accept it? "He didn't take anything from you. He made you immortal." He tapped his sword tip on hers and said, "You've stalled long enough. You have to train." 

**###############  
JANUARY 1870  
###############**

During their years together, Hotohke finally convinced her that all thoughts of revenge were worthless to her mind and spirit. He taught her only to fight when she needed to and when there was no other option. 

When she couldn't or wouldn't grasp that concept, he pulled on a leather strap that he wore around his neck. At it's end was a piece of black leather with a carving of what appeared to be two heads of a deer, connected at the neck. He told her, "This is a symbol that helps me remember my true self. It was made by my father and given to me on the eve of my adulthood. It is called a soul catcher, a remembrance to give you peace of mind," he said as he laid his finger on her forehead. "And in spirit." He put his finger on her heart. 

His finger lifted her chin and he told her, "You must travel the correct path, Elizabeth, or I have failed. as your teacher."

Initially most of the moves he showed her were defensive. He continued to be patient with her, but berated her whenever her concentration left the fight, and she focused on the stone in her shoe, or the lack of food in her stomach. She had to learn to fight under all conditions, even when injured. He eventually started to teach her offensive maneuvers; thrusts, disarming and capture of her opponent's weapon, and how to lead up to the coup de gras swing. Then, it was practice, practice, practice. As well as the study of her spirituality. She had to know of the spirit of peace that resided within her and had to know how to call upon it when she needed to. 

They told each other of their lives while they'd clean and sharpen their swords; cleaned his tent and the wagon that she lived in; exercised. Elizabeth was lucky indeed that she found Hotohke, or rather, that he found her. Her terror and the fear of the unknown had washed away and she became more secure in her immortality being with him. She watched Hotohke closely to learn how to act and how to fight.

During the time with Hotohke, he was everything to her, but there was never any intimate contact beyond the accidental brush of his hand against hers when he handed her food or oil for her sword. She wanted to get as close as she could to the man, but he seemed to be beyond earthly needs. He was too pure, knowing, God-like in her eyes. And, disappointingly, he never made the first move. She wondered if he was married, or in love with someone that he saw on the rare occasions he would take off and come back with no explanation as to where he was. The lack of intimate relations in her life didn't make a difference to her. She had gotten used to being alone since Teddy was killed and was too happy and satisfied as she grew stronger physically and emotionally to be concerned about it.

**############  
JULY 1870  
############**

One a hot summer evening, Elizabeth took the covering off her wagon and slept under the stars in the back. She awoke to the strange buzz. She pulled her head up to look over the ledge of the wagon to see if Hotohke wanted anything. A shot rang out. Scared that a battle had once again come to her door, she cowered in the wagon. Being in the boondocks with Hotohke, she wasn't up to snuff on the events of the world. Had another war broken out? 

She heard laughter and a voice call out, "Elizabeth... come here, girlie." That voice had been embedded in her head for the last 7 years. An Irish accent! That, she had figured out from an Irish drifter who came through the year before. Elizabeth reached for her sword, but a hand clamped on her foot and she was pulled from the wagon. She fell roughly onto the ground. Splinters slid into her hip and made her howl in pain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her teacher laying on the ground. 

"Hotohke!" She screamed when she saw his life-less eyes stare at her. She was pulled up by her hair and saw the cause of the new buzz. Joshua Logan sprawled on a rock by the campfire. She turned to see the man, a mortal man, who had her hair in his hands. Before she could claw her way free, a kick connected with her cheek, she heard the bone shatter and the pain took over her whole being.

"What do you want?!" she garbled through her broken face, blood dripped from her eye.

Joshua, smiling as big as possible, stood up on two limbs and said, "I was wondering... how much you've learned about us."

Elizabeth saw the peg of his fake leg poking out between his shoe and pant leg. She struggled to get free from the man holding her so she could throttle that bastard, but the man was strong and resistance was a futile exercise. Then, she felt another man kick her in the ribs. She about passed out from the pain, and the air squeezed out of her body in an instant.

Joshua asked, "Has kimosabi told you about quickenings?" She was silent, could only stare up at him out of her one good eye. "Have you ever seen one," he asked. Hotohke finally revived from the gun blast to the chest. 

Joshua made his way to him and grabbed her teacher's long silky hair in his grubby little fists. Elizabeth pulled free from the man and tried to yell for them to leave him alone, but she couldn't form words with her crushed mouth, could only grumble and scream.

The man pushed Elizabeth to the ground as Logan dropped the gun and brandished his sword. "No!" Elizabeth managed to scream as the sword was lifted high into the air. 

"Revenge is a senseless exercise," Hotohke said, to both Elizabeth and Logan. Knowing he had no chance of getting to his feet, Hotohke closed his eyes and summoned the spirits to cleanse and cherish his soul. 

The sword thrashed down, slicing his neck clean. Logan held Hotohke's head in his hand like a fisherman would a stringer of fish to get his picture taken and yelled, "Watch closely!"

Elizabeth couldn't see much, in his surprise the mortal man holding her blocked her view. Her face was shoved into the dirt. The earth mixed with the blood that still poured out of her eye. She heard crackles and sparks erupt. Suddenly, the mortal man yelled, "Sweet Jesus!" and loosened his grip on her. Turning her head, she saw a soft stream of light emit from her teacher's neck up into the air. The mortal men enthralled by the light show didn't pay attention to her. 

Hotohke's soft light became stronger, fuller as it gathered itself above Logan, then slammed all it's might and energy into him. Logan leaned his head back and held his sword out, yelling as he collected the thoughts and strength of the man he had rendered unable to defend himself. White bolts of power streamed away from Logan and brushed against the legs of Elizabeth and the mortals. They crawled back from the fray. She followed them, wanting to get as far from this as possible; she had only ever heard of quickenings. Her heart cried out that the first one she witnessed would be that of her teacher, the source of strength in her life. The wind swirled so strong it was hard to breathe and the area was lighted as if the morning sun was out. The things in her wagon and in Hotohke's tent swirled in the air. The mortals and Elizabeth were thrown back to the ground, held flat by the wind and torrents of electricity. 

Logan fell to his knee and whimpered when the quickening came to an end. The tent fell on top of him. He lifted himself up onto his foot and peg leg and happily stated, "That's what we're all about..."

Blue sparks skittered across her face reconnecting her cheekbone and then it started on her ribs making her a useless lump until the healing process ended. Logan stooped down to watch, smiled. The mortals had to hold Elizabeth back from tackling him when he got that close. "You're next," he said, raising a pistol and pointing it at her. 

As Elizabeth struggled out of their grip, a shot rang out. Elizabeth thought she was hit and felt for the wound. The mortal who'd kicked her face fell on top of her, dead. Another shot sounded and the other mortal who had kicked her in the ribs, fell. She pushed them off and got to her feet, not knowing whether to search for her sword to fight, tackle Logan, or run like hell.

Another shot rang out and that one she felt, in her leg. She fell to the ground, holding her leg, biting back the pain. Joshua Logan was either ironic or had good aim. Her wound was in the exact same place the confederate had shot Logan. 

She wasn't going to show that man anymore of her pain. He limped forward and stood above her. She had to ask, "Why?"

"They were liabilities. They saw too much. We can't be showing the mortals what we're all about, now can we?" Her hand slipped from her leg because of the flow of blood. He said, "Or are you talking about the Indian? Because I can. Or where you asking about you? Why am I going to kill you?" His mouth curled into a vicious smile. "Because I can. And, because I do enjoy it, so."

She got to her knees to crawl away, but her leg wouldn't support her and the pain had taken over her entire senses. Tears instinctively flew down her face, but she'd be damned if she let Joshua Logan see them. Her sword was too far away. Elizabeth collapsed on the ground, waiting for him to grab her head and take it off. 

What he did do was turn her over with his cane. He held his sword tip to her face and said, "How does it feel? To know that your leg is going to heal, but it hurts so much. Now think of that bastard with a saw towering over you in your pain! You know... if I really wanted to do it, I could cut your leg off after I shoot you in the heart. Then you'll know exactly how I feel. It will never heal if it's not attached, much like your head. I'll take that when I'm damn good and ready. You practice more. I'll find you later." Having said that, he raised the gun and shot Elizabeth right in the heart.

When she revived, she fully expected to be one legged. Laying on her side, the first thing she saw was the head of her teacher, just inches from her own. It had been carefully placed there. She jumped to her feet backing away from it and cried out in anger. Then she realized she was standing on two feet. The blue healing lights were taking care of her other wounds. When the pain of the healing ended, she wondered when the healing of the heart would take place. When the healing would take over the bitter revenge that bubbled in her soul, even though Hotohke's last words spoke of the futility of revenge.

She sat down and tried to find the peace that Hotohke believed in. She tried to follow the instructions he had given her when showing her how to achieve peace; but there was no peace in her mind or her body. Hotohke's soul catcher on it's leather strap, that had been a fixture around his neck**,** was lying on the ground. She picked it up, it was the last link to her teacher. She wrapped Hotohke's body in his tribal blanket and slipped him into a shallow grave she dug amongst the trees, then she covered his body with the soil of the earth... she sat clenching his soul catcher, and prayed for the ever lasting peace to take care of her beloved teacher. Hoping that one day, she'd be able to find hers.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY  
SEPTEMBER 4, 2000**

Kevin came back into the living room and sat by Amy. They had all been listening to her story, Duncan shaking his head at the audacity and viciousness of Logan's actions. Elizabeth took another sip from the whiskey bottle, then set it on the coffee table. "How's Joe?"

"Sleeping," Kevin replied, looking at her, almost surprised such a foreign being could speak English. She was the same woman he knew for three years, but her immortality and her story went completely over his head. 

Methos stared at the female immortal who almost got his best friend killed. Her story affected him for one reason. It was much like how his own teacher was taken from him. He looked over at Duncan and Amanda, smiled. They didn't know the first thing about him and Methos liked it that way. He'd always shut down any conversation about his beginnings, teacher, early life, because it was too personal. He believed that there should be something left for himself, that no one could share. Maybe losing a teacher in such a way and keeping a memento of that person wasn't actually as unique a thing as Methos thought it was. At that moment, Methos visualized the ring on a leather strap he wore for years after Hazimil's death, in a beat up, old leather pouch, that was now hermetically sealed in plastic, in the safe buried under the floor boards of his Paris apartment.

Duncan, not realizing Methos' mind had gone back so many millennia, renewed the conversation and asked Elizabeth, "Logan is still after you, all these years later?"

"He came back at me ten years later. Then the pattern started, every 20 years, in July. It's like our anniversary or something. He'd kill whoever I was with, always told me to practice, get better, learn more, he'd take my head next time. I thought since he didn't strike last summer, he was dead. He didn't say that this evening. Did he really try to take my head?"

"Yes, he did," Amanda said, studying Elizabeth as she took another swallow, killing the bottle. "Why in the world can't you outrun a one legged man?"

"He hires people to shoot first, mortals who I can't sense coming. Or immortals to sweet talk me first and make me think I'm safe." She looked at them, "Joe is the only one to walk away from one of Logan's ambushes. It's a good thing you all showed up to stop him. At least I hope Joe walks away. I didn't mean for him to get caught in it, Amy. I love Joe, you know that. I just wanted to talk to him."

"For what?" Methos sneered at her for almost killing his friend.

Elizabeth looked at him, wondering if he'd ever do anything besides stare daggers at her. "Information. Some information is better than nothing. Maybe Joe could tell me if Logan was dead and gone. If not, maybe he could find out where Logan was and I could ambush him before he found me. Maybe he could ask a watcher friend or... is it all on a computer somewhere about all of us?"

"No," Methos said. Remembering what hot water they got into when Don Salzer wanted to network. 

"How do you know?"

"Each watcher has their own records," Amy said. "We can only find out who Logan's watcher is and go from there."

"How do **_you_** know **that**?"

Amy said, "I was a watcher."

Ignoring the fact that there was also a lot that Amy hadn't let her in on, Elizabeth sat up in her chair, interested in the turn of events, "Then you have friends to ask."

"And more bullets would fly," Methos said, taking a swig of beer.

Amy said, "If you hadn't run out like that, I may have made that suggestion."

Elizabeth felt cornered, "And Joe wouldn't be lying in that bed, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"But it's true," Methos said. "A very good friend of mine, her father," he pointed at Amy, "Wouldn't have almost died tonight because of you."

Duncan interjected, "Calm down. That's not going to do any good at all."

She knew that irritating man was right, and studied his face. She looked him up and down. The sight of him in long johns wasn't an easy vision to shake. "What did you do with your hair?" Methos was taken back. "I liked it longer."

They all looked at Methos. Methos squinted at her, "So we have met before."

"You don't remember? I woke you up." For the first time in a long while, she smiled and said, "With my blade." 

Methos thought back. That hadn't happened often... there was a woman who surprised him. Back in... when was it?

Elizabeth, thinking he still didn't remember, said, "You were lost. In Wyoming..."

**##################  
WYOMING   
DECEMBER 2, 1898  
##################**

Elizabeth roamed the United States of America, that her late husband, Theodore Tennison, had a hand in uniting during the Civil War, trying to find her niche after her teacher's killing. As each year passed without coming into contact with Joshua Logan, the anger started to fade. The beauty of the earth and the kindness of strangers sweetened her outlook on life. But, she hadn't yet found a place that she felt she belonged. 

When she stopped in Casper for supplies, she heard the two men at the general store talk about a strange man who was staying in the woods just outside of town. That got Elizabeth's attention. After not even thinking about Logan for years, her fear took over and she lost her sense of perspective; she was convinced that the strange man in the woods was Joshua Logan, as if there could only be one of them. She asked, "Where?"

The man behind the counter pointed to the east. So she hightailed it out of town, to the west. She made sure she had her sword within easy reach strapped to her horse, this one was named Moses. Her soul wanted to go after Joshua Logan, but her head told her to try and kept in on her shoulders. Lord knew what that man would do next. 

The man at the store had to be talking about Joshua Logan. She'd felt a buzz for days, following her, skirting in and out of sensing range, never making his presence known. Suddenly tired of being scared of the monster, she pulled on Moses' reins and her horse came to a dead stop. 

As the kicked up dust swirled in the night air, she debated what to do. It was time. She rode back into Casper, then rode through and past it, to the east. Elizabeth would attack Logan before he had the hope of striking her first. He was a one-legged man for God's sake! She had two strong legs, a strong sword arm and constitution; and she needed to see him dead. 

Miles east of town, through the mesquite trees, she saw the soft flickering of a campfire. She didn't feel a buzz, but how many people would be camping when there's a nice inexpensive hotel just a few miles away? She left Moses at a tree, laying his reins over a branch and unsheathed her sword. Preparing herself for battle, she gripped the hilt of the cavalry sword and took a deep cleansing breath. 

She ran toward the light with her sword ready. As she came closer to the light, she sensed a buzz! It was Logan! She would surprise him for once! The lump, visible in a bedroll next to the fire, stirred as she neared. She hurried towards it and placed her sword at the throat of the man. 

He reached out a hand and grabbed her ankle, throwing her off her feet, making her land on her butt. The man jumped out of the bedroll and onto his feet in one swift, graceful movement. Then he slashed out with his Ivanhoe. "Who are you?!" he snarled.

She protected herself from his swing and got to her feet on the second try, after stumbling on the first. When the man waited for her to stand and slashed out again, Elizabeth forced her sword against his. The blades rubbed against each other as they both got their feet planted. She realized it was a two legged man before her, wearing long johns. "Sorry," she said. "You aren't who I thought you were. I don't want to fight you."

Methos, pissed, shouted, "That's encouraging!" He was finally sound asleep after losing the trail of the other Hole in the Wall gang members. "Who were you expecting?"

She noticed his accent, not exactly Irish, but not of this country, and wondered if he was one of Logan's pals. Were they from the same place? She couldn't help also noticing his dark wavy hair, sideburns, scowl, long arms and legs, and the delicate hand that held the sword toward her own. "Joshua Logan. You wouldn't by chance know him?"

"If he's anything like you," he sneered. "I'm thankful to say, no."

"He isn't anything like me. He's a monster," she said and she actually turned her back on an immortal with a sword in his hand, and a pissy attitude. He wasn't Logan, so she didn't feel any threat.

Methos was livid. After waking him up at sword point, she was actually going to walk away like nothing happened! "Wait a minute!" he hollered. She turned. "Where are we? I'm lost."

"Just outside of Casper," she said.

"Damn it, I thought I was south of there." Methos flipped the edge of the blanket off his foot and told her, "Never trust information from thieves."

"I'll try to remember that."

Methos studied the immortal who suddenly didn't seem so startling. "Why are you looking for Joshua Logan?"

"To kill him."

"Oh, good," he said, making a flicking motion with his hand to move her along. "Just be on your way, then."

"Sure," she said, then looked down the man's body and smiled. "Your thing is hanging out."

He didn't move a muscle to cover himself, kept his Ivanhoe trained in her direction. "Thank you so much for waking me up."

When she was out of the light of his campfire and almost to Moses, she turned back to the immortal. He hadn't moved a muscle. His sword was still in the air in a defensive position. She got on her horse and rode past him and his ebbing camp fire, then north. 

Only when she was out of sensing range and he was sure she wouldn't be disturbing his slumber again, did Methos put his sword back in the blanket with him. He adjusted his long johns before falling back into a light sleep, still ready for anything.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY  
SEPTEMBER 4, 2000**

"I flipped you on your back side," Methos beamed, finally figuring out who she was, and knowing he was faster than she could ever hope to be. "You haven't gotten any more charming."

"I've had a lot to deal with," she replied, then remembered him standing there with his sword at her face, with his dick hanging out not at all ashamed and not lifting a finger to cover it. "Did you ever find your way?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I met up with my mates in a couple of days, since you told me I was north of my destination."

"What was your destination?"

"The Hole in the Wall."

"Butch and Sundance?"

"And Harvey and Harry and Ben, Elzy," Methos smiled. 

Amanda remembered his crack when they infiltrated Watcher headquarters and said, "I thought you were joking."

Duncan asked, "You told me you rode with them, but I didn't know if I should believe you."

"You can still wonder," Methos lifted the beer to his lips.

"You and Adam know each other, Liz?" Amy grinned.

"No," Methos said. "We just had that one run-in." He relaxed, knowing that the episode was where he knew her from and not something else that might have pissed her off and make her come back for revenge. Revenge was so time consuming for most. Running from another's revenge was tiring for Methos.

"Liz, why did you put a sword to his throat?" Amanda had to ask. 

"I thought he was Logan. I found the wrong guy camping outside of town."

"How did you let a woman sneak up on you, Adam," Duncan enjoyed asking.

"I was asleep."

"A woman?" Elizabeth didn't catch on that it was a joke, she didn't know those people. "Only a man could sneak up on people? What kind of a sexist remark was that?"

"I didn't mean that," Duncan said. Everyone in that room**,** except Elizabeth**,** knew that wasn't what he meant.

"Hold on," Kevin said. "I'm still trying to digest everything you said. You said that Logan was a union officer... that there was a battle? Are you talking about the Civil War?"

"I lived in Gettysburg, yes."

"So, you're..." he did the math. "Like, 140 years old?"

"167 if you want to get technical."

He sat back, in wonder. The others looked at Kevin. Elizabeth was actually the baby of the group but her age blew Kevin's mind. Amanda smiled, what would he think if he knew she was over 1200... that Methos was... "How does that happen?" Kevin asked. 

Amy looked at Kevin, "I told you about them."

"I didn't believe you," he said. Looked at Elizabeth. "You don't look any older than us. How old are all of you?"

"I was wondering that myself," Elizabeth said.

"We're old enough to know we don't answer such questions," Methos said as he got up for another beer.

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Chapter Three - New York 

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	3. New York

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES  
CHAPTER THREE**

**NEW YORK**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: DM M A J Amy (OC) Elizabeth, Kevin, assorted watchers and immortals

**SUMMARY**: During the next week in New York, Methos is suspicious, Joe is healing, Duncan is in his protective mode, Amanda has an enemy, as they all investigate Joe's shooting. 

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY  
TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 5, 2000  
DAYBREAK  
JOE'S LIVING ROOM**

After spending the night tending Joe, Amy was whipped as she ambled into the living room. When Kevin sensed her, the buzz of one fiancé sensing the other entering the room, he stirred on the couch. "You should have gone home last night, honey," Amy tenderly kissed him. "You have to be at work bright and early."

Kevin shook his head as he stood, "I called Myron last night, family emergency. He said not to worry."

Their voices roused the other three in the room out of their slumber. "How is Joe," Duncan groggily asked from his sleeping position on the floor.

"He's still sleeping," Amy said. "The sweating and shaking stopped about an hour ago, thank God. I was ready to call an ambulance but Liz talked me out of it."

Methos' head snapped up from the back of the armchair he'd parked himself on and had fallen asleep. "Hospitals... police... busybodies. Joe's only reacting like any mortal does when shot."

Amy snipped, "Well, Adam, I don't like to see my father sweat and shake."

Amanda stirred on the love seat and moved over so Amy could sit. When Amy looked like a very tired, worried daughter, Amanda put her arm around her.

Amanda told her, "Joe has a lot of fight in him. He's been through a lot and he's always come out the victor."

Duncan and Methos went to check on Joe to find out for themselves. When Methos rose from the chair, an empty beer bottle fell to the floor. There wasn't a drop left in it, so he only had put it on the end table, with a 'sorry' smile to Amy, who hadn't even noticed, she was so tired.

* * *

**BEDROOM**

Elizabeth was sleeping on a kitchen chair she had pulled up next to Joe's bedside, worried all night that she had put him in a coma, or killed him with the sleeping pill in his weakened condition, or forgot to do... something! The healing process of a mortal's immune system made her feel helpless. The new strong buzzes roused her from a light sleep and she moved out of the way so Duncan and Adam could check on their friend.

Joe was sleeping on his back when Methos slowly sat at his side so as not to disturb him, he felt his forehead for temperature, his pulse. The bandage had a spot of blood on it. Methos gingerly lifted the tape and gauze to look at the wound, patted at the trace of blood on the stitches, making Joe flinch. "Sorry."

Elizabeth was relieved he was awake. Her handiwork was a bit red, a bit swollen, but didn't show any sign of infection. "I changed the dressing a couple of hours ago, should it be changed again?"

"Yes. There's a small amount of blood seeping, but that's normal," Methos remarked. Elizabeth went to Joe's bureau, the make-shift hospital supply table, and brought gauze, tape and a scissors to Adam. Duncan smiled at her to signal for her to relax, her tense movements and voice reflected her sense of guilt, then he moved aside for her to rebandage Joe.

Joe's eyes flickered and opened. The first thing he saw was Methos leaning over him. "This can't be heaven," he muttered, then smiled. "If I was in heaven, you wouldn't be there."

"Ah," Methos smiled. "I see you found your humor. I'll take that remark to mean, because I'm not going to die, so why would I be in your heaven? I hate to think of why else you might have said that. You don't seem delirious. How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot," Joe simply stated, having to lean his head back on the pillow.

"I'm so sorry, Joe," Elizabeth muttered, thinking she would never be able to recompense him for almost getting him killed.

Joe followed the sound of the voice and said to her, "Why? Did you shoot me?"

"Well, this wouldn't have happened if--."

Joe looked down at the wound and lifted his shoulder a fraction of an inch before it hurt. "Who did the cutting and pasting?"

"We both did," Methos said.

"Looks like you did a good job. Liz must have done the cutting, though," he gleamed to Methos. "This one's a smaller scar than the last one."

"Smaller hole," Methos shrugged. "Smaller bullet. Smaller gun."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Elizabeth laid fresh gauze over the wound, the last of it, and asked, "When were you were shot before?"

"Once when Adam here played doctor, and once in Nam."

She only saw one bullet wound on his upper body, along with an appendix scar. Viet Nam must have been where he lost his legs. "You fought in Viet Nam?" Elizabeth had been one of the multitude of protestors. It was the only war she didn't find her way to from the beginning of it, she didn't go until she realized that the soldiers hadn't decided where to go, when to fight. They followed orders and needed all the personnel they could get to help save them. So she faked some credentials and enlisted her skills. "We might have run into each other. A lot of men lost their legs over there."

Joe just nodded, could be, but didn't want to get into it. The memory of that time made him pissed. "I got a headache."

Elizabeth put her hand to his forehead and said, "You still have a little temperature, too. Do you want an aspirin?"

"I'm allergic to aspirin. I think I have Tylenol."

"It's always a good thing to ask," she smiled. "No wonder I couldn't find any last night. I'll go get you Tylenol."

After she left, Methos cut the tape with the scissors and tapped it on the edges of the fresh dressing. "So, enough excitement for one night."

Joe asked, "Who were those guys?"

"The way I hear it," Methos mumbled. "They were the welcome wagon for an immortal named Joshua Logan."

"Logan... that's who Liz asked about when she came over last night. I was on my way to the gig so I wasn't really paying attention. Who's Joshua Logan?"

"A disabled, very unpleasant immortal," Methos cringed. When the gauze was taped down, Methos covered his torso with the sheet and blanket.

"Disabled, how?"

"He's missing a leg."

"Well, at least he has one," Joe grumbled. Duncan shifted his body by the window, reflecting the light onto Joe. Only then did Joe realize he was there. He nodded, "Hey Mac."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Duncan smiled. He'd never been a doctor and stayed clear to let others work, but was worried to death with the reminder of Joe's mortality. "Takes more than a bullet to stop you, huh?"

"Strong Dawson genes..." Joe smiled.

"Don't get too cocky," Methos warned. "You have a way to go to recover."

"Call Matthew Blair," Joe said, and grabbed Methos' hand when it seemed he was going to stand up, get on with his day. "His number's in my book. He's a good guy. He'll help you."

"Help us with what," Duncan asked.

"To find Logan."

Methos shook his head, sat heavily on the bed. "Now, why would I want to do that?"

"Logan is the reason I'm laying here. Methos, Mac, you find him and kill him."

Duncan immediately said, "Will do, my friend." 

Methos looked from one friend to the other. It would take the strength of ten men to stop the gung-ho attitude of Duncan MacLeod, if his facial expression was any indication. Determination. Joe was staring at Methos, gauging how he would react, if he would indeed take care of it. Methos knew he was under close scrutiny, processed it all. "He's only after one of us. If she's out of the equation, you're fine."

Knowing that Methos would take the side of Switzerland made Joe angry. "I'm not worried about my safety, Methos, I'--."

Methos reminded Joe, "Adam!"

"That son of a bitch had me shot! I could be **_dead_** right now!" Joe's voice rose louder than he expected and the strain on his chest was immense. "Would you have just walked away from it?"

Joe leaned back, spent. "This is about righting a wrong, not about 'I'm scared he's going to finish the job'."

Duncan tapped his arm and said, "He's right, Methos."

"Adam!" Methos looked to see if any uninformed ears were within listening range. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you?" Duncan sat on the bed, angry. The jostling caused Joe discomfort, but he was focused on Duncan's words to Methos. "That immortal shot our friend, he had no qualms about hurting innocent people! He's not playing the game correctly and he's murdering mortals in the process."

"So put him on the long list of immortals to stay away from!"

Duncan hated the need he felt to once again explain ethics to the old man. "So he can go on killing? We know about him now. We can't let it go on!" 

Methos, who never did like the sanctimonious MacLeod inquired, "Aren't you tired of being commando cop of the immortal world, MacLeod? I don't like what Logan does either, but why 

is it our place? We just have to get the hell out of his way. He's only got one leg, given time, someone will take care of him."

"That bastard shot me!" Joe's voice boomed, startling them both, and also Elizabeth, who just appeared at the doorway. "You find him and kill him!" Joe laid back on the bed. He knew he had Duncan on his side, but he always thought he could trust Methos with his life. Joe looked up at his old friend and said, "How many favors have I asked you for, **_Adam_**? Once, one time," he put up a finger for dramatic effect. "To help me save Amy from Walker. This time it's for me. I want this guy dead. I've only felt like this one other time. In Nam. They came out of the bushes, I didn't even see them coming. All my life I've regretted that I didn't have a chance to blow them all away for what they did to me."

Joe was sorry he admitted that foible and the wound on his shoulder was throbbing from his exertions. "I'm not proud of it. But that man is after the best friend my daughter has ever had and I'll be **_damned_** if I'm going to let you saunter out of here and allow Amy to get killed because she's not going to let Liz out of her sight! So I'm asking you this one time, and one time only, please, help Mac find him and kill him."

Amy charged past Elizabeth and into the bedroom, "What is all the shouting about? Dad has to rest!"

When the men saw Elizabeth at the door, they all had different reactions. Joe was sorry they were talking about her in ways she might not understand. Duncan wanted her to know that he'd help as much as possible, and Methos... well, Methos only wondered how long she'd been standing there, if she heard his real name. Elizabeth handed the Tylenol and a glass of water to Duncan for him to administer.

Amy tapped Methos on the shoulder and tipped her head for him to move. "Dad can't have this kind of excitement. He has to rest. Do I have to kick you all out of here?"

"I'm so sorry, Joe," Elizabeth said, hating that she had started crying at the door and now at Joe's bedside, the tears were freely flowing and her voice cracked. "I've lived with the threat of that man all my immortal life. I should have taken care of it before. I will take care of it, on my own.

I don't want anything more to happen to you. God, it would have killed me if you had died, if he hurt Amy, or any of you. Adam's right. I'll get out of your way. With me gone, there's no threat to you."

"No, no," Joe exclaimed, taking her hand. "From the moment those guys showed up, you protected me."

Methos stared at Elizabeth as he processed it all. Never liking to see Joe so vulnerable and Amy so helpless with the situation... he walked toward the door. Elizabeth cringed and stepped out of the way as Adam sauntered past and out of the room. Joe swallowed the Tylenol with a glass of water Duncan provided. Only when he lifted his head high enough to drink the water did he finally noticed his stumps under the covers. He moaned, "Can I at least have my legs?"

Duncan said. "The left one's a little... broken."

"Wonderful," Joe grumbled. "I've got an old pair in the closet."

Amy said, "You can't walk yet, Dad."

"I want my legs," Joe yelled, but finally spent, he gasped, "Okay?"

* * *

**STUDY**

Methos stood, looking at Joe's watcher address book. Just a short trip to the copy center and he wouldn't have to pester Joe again, he could go right to the sources. And, his password was in there for the Watcher Database. 

Joe was thorough. There was an address for every single name he had in the watcher system. Kevin walked in as Methos was debating what to do, so he just called Blair. Not wanting to talk over the phone, he was as clipped as possible. "I'm Pierson, a friend of Dawson's. He wants me to talk to you."

"Dawson? I haven't heard from him for over a year. Why doesn't he talk to me himself?"

"I'll explain it when I see you."

Kevin left the room to let him talk watcher business, something so far outside his realm, just the thought of it all made him jittery.

There was a long pause. Blair didn't know this guy Pierson from a hole in the ground and it seemed awfully strange Joe didn't call him for a meeting himself. Blair picked a public place to meet, but that was vetoed down by Methos.

"Just come to Joe's apartment," Methos demanded. "1153 West 84th Street."

"What for?"

_Watchers_... Methos muttered to himself, shaking his head. _Sometimes, they're more paranoid than we are_. He put the phone back to his ear and said, "Look up anything you have on Joshua Logan and bring the information. Understand? Dawson's life depends on it."

That got the old watcher's attention but he was still leery. He'd need to figure out who Pierson was, and since he seem to be as much of a threat to Joe, as Logan was, he told him, "I have some things to do, I can't get there until after 2 this afternoon."

"As soon as you can," Methos said, then hung up. He looked again at Joe's address book. Joe was going to be laid up for a while. Hm, he wouldn't miss it for a couple of hours. Then he noticed Elizabeth at the doorway. He felt all the buzzes in that apartment, but it would be so lovely to be able to gauge distance along with presence. 

She asked him, "Who was that?"

"A watcher friend of Joe's."

She nodded, but was confused. The chaos last night was because she talked to a watcher. "I thought there wasn't supposed to be any contact between Immortals and Watchers."

Methos shrugged, rules... he had no time for them when important matters were at hand. He put the address book at his side, then behind his back. Elizabeth looked tired, very tired, and uncomfortable wearing Joe's clothes. Patching Joe up and sitting up with him all night, Methos allowed one point in her favor. She had a lot of making up to do for getting him into trouble in the first place though. That he couldn't forget. "How are you doing," he slowly asked, surprised. It wasn't a base impulse.

"I'm fine." Last night he bit her head off and had every right to. "How 'bout yourself?"

"Peachy." Methos slipped the address book into his back pocket, pulled his sweater down over the bulge.

"What does a watcher friend of Joe's have to do with anything?"

"He'll give us a lead on how to find Logan."

"No," Elizabeth violently shook her head. "You all have nothing to do with this."

It was kind of late for that, wasn't it? Methos would think that was priceless, but it was too serious to laugh at. "Nothing to do with it? That man in there was shot by Logan," he said, pointing at the bedroom.

"Because of me." When he didn't argue, only put his hands on his hips and let the words linger in the air, she said, "Take care of Joe. I'll take care of Logan."

"How? With half-baked information?" Methos wondered how she managed to stay alive all those years. She would definitely lose her head. There was nothing he wanted to do about that, he just didn't want any of them to be in the vicinity when it happened. "What are you going to do? Sit on a street corner and wait until Logan comes and shoots you? Takes your head? Are you insane? Don't you think anything through?"

"I have a plan that will draw him away from all of you. That's my biggest fear, that one of you will lose your head, like he took Hotohke's."

"Don't remind me." It didn't make Methos feel any easier being near her. "And you just stood there and let that happen, too?"

The exhaustion from the stress and being up all night got to her. That was the only possible reason she could be thinking of standing there explaining, for the second time, what happened to this condescending man, but she spouted, "I had a bullet in me. He had two men with him. He had me kicked in the face and broke my cheekbone, and also three of my ribs," then she matched his squinted contempt. "But, yes, I guess you can classify it as standing there and letting it happen."

Methos relaxed his eyes and was sorry he said that, "How many times has he come after you?"

"Last night was the ninth time since I turned immortal 137 years ago."

"Then, maybe he'll be gone for another 15 years."

"You think so?" She was hopeful, but knew it wasn't to be. Logan didn't get to perform his power trip. "Did he really try to take my head?"

"He had your head pulled back and held a sword in the air."

Elizabeth instinctively put her hand to her neck and thought that through. "He never went that far before, I don't think."

"Oh, he always just took the nearest immortal's head instead? How many immortals have played sacrificial lamb for you?"

She was done talking to him. When Elizabeth walked to the living room door, with the determination on her face she'd only shown since finding out she was immortal, Amy stopped her, "Where are you going?"

"I have to take care of some things," she said, opening the door.

"I'll go with you," Amy offered, or rather, demanded.

"No," Methos said, having followed them to the door to see how she would pull Amy into her problem once again. He took Amy's arm in his hand and held her back. "You have to be here for Joe."

Amy's focus was on her friend. "Where are you going, Liz?"

"It's no longer your concern. I'll give you the all clear when it's over." Elizabeth kissed Amy on the cheek and disappeared down the hall. 

Amy jerked her arm but couldn't release Methos' grip. He leaned close to her and said, "She has to do what she needs to do. You can't be involved in it."

"She's my friend, like a sister. Let go of me!"

Kevin came in from the hall carrying a paper, wet from a light misting outside, and glared when he saw Methos' hand on his fiancé, and his fiancé not liking it. "What's going on?"

Amy said, "Liz left."

"I know. We passed in the hall."

"Why didn't you stop her?"

"Why?"

"She can't be out there alone!"

Amy fought against Methos's grip on her arm. He yelled, "She's a grown woman. You can't deal with it!"

Amy got away from Methos' hand and rushed down the hall. Methos glared at the ceiling, why doesn't anyone listen? He was about to call out for MacLeod to go after her, but she was running and would get away. Amy had to be looked after. He took his coat and walked past Kevin to follow her. Kevin dropped the paper and shut the door behind him as he followed Adam down the hall.

* * *

**STREET**

As Methos barreled out the door of the building, he sensed Elizabeth's buzz. She was waiting at the corner with a throng of people for the light to change.

He saw Amy rush down the sidewalk to Elizabeth, who turned when she heard Amy call for her. "Amy? Go back to Joe. That's where you belong!" Then she felt the buzz, worried it was Logan, then saw Adam walking down the sidewalk. Elizabeth didn't know if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. She moved across the street with the throng when the light changed.

Amy ran up to her and pulled at her arm. "Where are you really going?"

"Home to change into my own clothes, then to NYU. I have an extremely hard test prepared and I really like torturing my students."

Methos chuckled, recalled how surprised he was by professor's power trips, and then remembered some of his own when he taught Ancient Greek at Oxford over 75 years before. He walked along with them as a chaperone, or a target, depending on how you looked at it. Methos tried to get a handle on the immortal who brought them all into the fray. Was she, herself, anything to be concerned about, did she had a history of mental illness and was Logan a big story she'd cooked up to get rid of three powerful immortals in one fell swoop. Bribe the men with guns to 'ambush' her, get their friend shot, save his life, make them all relax around her, then, **_bingo_**! She kept calling him Adam, but did she know about Methos?

When Elizabeth scolded Amy for not wearing a coat, then put hers around her Amy asked, "Well, what about you?"

Elizabeth whispered to Amy so no one would hear, "Have I ever had a cold the whole time you've known me?" When Amy's mortality registered, Elizabeth maintained, "You really should go back to Joe. You have no business getting into this."

"You already brought her into it," Methos said.

Elizabeth turned and shouted, "Shut up! I know it's all my fault! I've accepted that! Do you get off on reminding me every five minutes?" People on the sidewalk heard her and looked at the object of her rage, then just walked on.

Elizabeth stopped at the next intersection and turned on Adam. "How many times and how many ways and in how many languages do I have to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry!_ Je suis desole_!_ Lo siento mucho_!_ Ich bin traurig_!_ Sono spiacente_! Or do you just prefer it when people to kiss your ass?"

Methos stepped back and settled himself on one foot, hand planted on his hip and gave her a sly sneer, "I see you've had a lot of experience apologizing."

"Calm down," Kevin said when he caught up with them.

"You shouldn't be near me either, Kevin." The light turned and Elizabeth walked and Amy followed. Methos tried to take her arm, but Amy was too quick and he lost her in the crowd. He and Kevin looked at every single person in the vicinity as they followed the women to the apartment.

"You said you had to take care of things," Amy walked/ran with Elizabeth through the streets and asked, "What other things do you have to do?"

"I can't tell you," Elizabeth ran up the stairs to the apartment building and unlocked the door with a key that hung from a long chain she kept around her neck and had tucked under Joe's clothes. 

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT**

Since he was there, Methos really wanted to collect more information about who Elizabeth was. He didn't like her outburst on the street, but could understand it. He really hated that Joe and Amy were vulnerable and as he walked into her home, he realized MacLeod's sermon may have made an impact without his knowing. He came to protect Amy, for Joe. 

Joe's wrath if anything happened to Amy... well, that was something Methos wouldn't want to look forward to. Methos had grown to like and admire Amy too. Could she have picked a friend who would turn on her? Use her to get at the immortals in her circle?

Elizabeth and Amy went into the bedroom, Methos hung around the living room looking at her belongings. Kevin hovered in the hall by the bedroom, eavesdropping and wondering what in the world he'd gotten himself into. He ironically smiled and looked at the floor as he remembered seeing a pretty woman at his cousin's wedding, asked her to dance, kissed her good night after making sure there was the possibility of a date. How could he know just two years ago that his life with Amy would include immortals, shootings... Elizabeth was never the dangerous type. All the while he'd known her, she was funny, carefree, one to lean on, kinda ditzy when it came to men. As he stared at her in a new light, her past blew him away.

There were a lot of Civil War mementos and books on Elizabeth's shelves, some Methos had read before. There were also historical tomes of all eras. She had to indeed be a professor of history to have a volume of 'History of Western Civilization: Europe in the Making'. What a boring book! And poorly written. That book was one of the reasons Methos decided to spend his time researching and writing a textbook outlining the world of Ancient Egypt. 

Six months before, he was in the New York Public Library, researching a recent acquisition the Metropolitan Museum of Art, his employer, had received. It was a quirt that came to the museum's possession with insufficient history. It was given to Adam Pierson to get the whole story of it's past. While he was pouring over volumes of India and Native American tools, he noticed a sweet little thing sitting at the massive study table across from him. After striking up a conversation, he found out she was studying to be an anthropologist at NYU, and was having trouble getting a handle on Ptolemy IV.

Happy to oblige, he sat with her and told her most of what he could remember of the man, using the guise of master of Egyptology that was required for his employment. She showed him the sorry excuse for a text she was using and he grumbled at the thought of the cold, matter-of-fact way it tried to explain what students needed to learn, to be interested, to stay in class, to be passionate enough to grasp it as a career. If he couldn't do any better, who could? So, he took it on himself to write the definitive text.

Methos fingered a statue on Elizabeth's bookshelf. It was of Vishnu, the preserver god of the Trinity. In it's four hands were a conch shell (sankha) indicating the divine sound "Om"; a discus (chakra), a reminder of the wheel of time, to lead a good life; a lotus (Padma) which is an example of glorious existence and a mace (gada) indicating the power and the punishing capacity of the Lord, if discipline in life is ignored. When Amy and Kevin walked in, he smiled and said, "I haven't seen one of these in a long time. Is that woman really someone who can be trusted?"

"I trust her with my life," Amy was emphatic. 

Methos retorted, "You have."

"What happened last night was beyond her control and not her fault," Amy argued. "I think you've been too hard on her. Give her a chance. We have to help her."

Methos saw a red light appear on the cordless phone cradle on the small table by a bench seat. "Who's she calling?"

"I don't know."

Methos walked toward her room to hear her end of the conversation in case she was letting people know she had Methos in her apartment. The bedroom door was ajar. Elizabeth was sitting on the bed hunched over, elbow on her knee, with the phone held to her ear, wearing one of her own shirts. It was only when Methos walked in that he noticed she wasn't wearing pants.

"Okay, thanks," she muttered. She hung up and noticed Methos.

"Who was that?" He thought that sounded a little forceful, so he asked, "Was it about Joe?"

Adam had startled her. She felt his buzz, but didn't know he was right there in her room. "No."

"Who was that?"

"My assistant at school. I decided not to go in after all. Can't I dress in private?"

"I," he started to speak, but saw her pull the bedspread across the bed to cover her legs. "... sure," he said and walked out of the room. He listened at the shut door for any quick escape she might make out the window. For the start of a possible ambush, a thought that he couldn't get out of his mind. He only heard her open and close drawers, heard a squeak as she sat back on the bed. He tried to shake the suspicion from his head, but a woman who managed a surprise attack on him, even though it was over a hundred years before, wasn't one to let down his guard in front of.

For lack of anything better to do while he waited, he walked to the kitchen and opened her fridge. His eyes lit up when he saw she drank the same brand of European beer that he favored. The impulse to take one was strong, but he had his work cut out for him trying to convince Amy to let the immortal take care of her problem herself, and get back to Joe's and meet with Blair. 

Amy went back to the bedroom and knocked before entering. When she opened the door, she saw Elizabeth packing a suitcase. "What's that for?"

"I'm catching a shuttle."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere but here."

Amy grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Liz, we're on the case. You're safe with us."

"But you aren't safe! That's the whole problem! I don't want to drag you all into it. Look what happened last night. Do you want a repeat performance?"

"Of course not."

Methos wandered into the hallway and stood near Kevin, listening. "I have a plan," Elizabeth said. "I just have to get away from the city, away from you, the people I care about."

"What kind of plan?" Elizabeth didn't answer Amy, so she repeated, "What kind of plan?"

"I'm going to buy a gun," she said, and it made both Methos and Kevin react. Methos shoved his hands into his pockets and paced. That wouldn't be good. 

"A gun?" Amy stopped her.

"I'm going to make sure I shoot first. I'm going take his head and it will all be over."

"You can't do that. You can't play the game that way."

"Your suggesting I just offer him my head on a platter?" Elizabeth noticed the loiterers in the hall and shut up.

"No, but with reinforcements, you can have a fair fight."

"It wouldn't be fair and he wouldn't stand still for it."

"If there's no one shooting it would be fair."

"It wouldn't be fair for him," Elizabeth was offended by her assumption that she couldn't handle herself. Methos smiled. He knew what she had meant. "Logan only has one leg. I may not fight often, Amy, but when pushed to it, I take heads. If I don't have a bullet hole in me, I can take him. I'm pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Great," Amy agreed. She found it impossible to get her head around what made immortals beam with pride about beheadings. "What's with the suitcase then?"

"I'm going to make myself very popular in Boston. Logan will find me, come after me... but I'll shoot him first."

"Why Boston?"

Elizabeth zipped up the suitcase and muttered, "I don't know a soul in Boston."

"We'll make sure you have the opportunity right here in the Big Apple."

"And someone else could get hurt. What if you or Kevin get caught in the crossfire next time? You may get it in an artery or in the heart where no one would be able to save you! Or in the stomach! Do you know how much it hurts to get shot in the stomach? It's not something to look forward to."

"That's not going to happen," Amy interrupted. "We'll make sure we're in public places or all together. In the meantime, I'm getting married to the love of my life on Saturday and I insist that you be standing right next to me. I've put a lot of time, thought, and expense into this wedding, I'm not going to let any part of it fall apart!" She gauged Elizabeth's reaction, she seemed to be weakening, as if she held out a double dip chocolate chip cookie dough waffle cone. Amy knew the woman well enough to know that if she laid a total guilt trip on her, she would do anything she wanted. She always did. "Besides, I don't have any other friends to wear that dress!"

They both smiled. Elizabeth wanted to believe that they'd all be safe, wanted to see Amy walk down that aisle, to Kevin, a wonderful man. 

Amy continued, "On Sunday you can take off if you promise to take care of yourself and keep me posted. You can do whatever you need to do. I don't like it, but... that's what you have to do. A week, Liz. That's all I'm asking."

"What if Logan shows up at your wedding?"

"It's holy ground."

Amy really did know all about immortals... Liz didn't like the quick answer, "Okay, what if he shows up at your reception."

"A public place? He'd attack at the St. Regis? Has he done that before?"

"No," Elizabeth admitted. "But he seems to really wants my head this time. And he's probably pissed that it didn't happen. Or it could happen before then. He could be watching me right now. Bullets can come flying into the window right now as we speak!"

"They will not," Amy hugged her to calm them both. "Please stay. Please."

"If anything happens, Amy," Elizabeth cried.

"I'll blame you forever," Amy smiled. "But nothing will. No one's that crazy. There's strength in numbers. We'll all be with you at all times until the wedding. We have to head back to Joe's. Blair's going to show up."

"Amy?"

"What," Amy spouted, prepared to argue.

Elizabeth lightly said, "About the dress..."

Amy pulled back and squinted, "What happened?"

"I... haven't had time to get the final fitting."

"Liz! You need that dress in four days! You said you took care of it."

"I know... that's why I didn't tell you. She lives way over on 44th and it hasn't been on my way. I'll go now. And Joe needs supplies."

"We have to see Blair, he's expecting us."

The thought of being around another watcher and something happening again was something she didn't want to be a part of. Just two days ago, she didn't know watchers existed, hadn't sensed an immortal in months. Methos took Amy's arm, told Elizabeth, "We'll get things for Joe and see about him, you see about the dress."

"She shouldn't go alone," Amy said. "But I want to talk to Blair, too. I was a watcher, he may be more open with me."

"I can take Liz over to the seamstress," Kevin said.

"No," Elizabeth stated. "I don't want to have to worry about anyone but me out there."

"Fine," Methos said. "We'll be at Joe's."

Amy asked her, "You won't leave town?"

Elizabeth looked at her suitcase and thought she could still leave town. Amy's trust was evident on her face. "No, I promise. Not until Sunday."

"Come to Joe's as soon as you're finished," Amy said. Elizabeth faintly nodded. "Promise me you'll go to Joe's right after the fitting." 

"Yes, Amy," Elizabeth stated. "I promise."

* * *

**STREET**

All the way out of the building, Elizabeth tried to talk sense into her, but Amy was adamant, and Adam didn't disagree. She promised she would not leave the city. They were going to go their separate ways when Elizabeth tensed. The denim man, wearing cords, was across the street. She ran to him and said, "This is not a coincidence! You should be at work! Or are you?"

The man panicked, didn't know what happened. He'd gone 12 years without Elizabeth even giving him the time of day and now she was confronting him, again, in front of others. Elizabeth said, "Is Logan paying you to keep tabs on me?"

"Logan who?"

Elizabeth grabbed his tattooed wrist, "What's that?!"

Amy said, "It's a watcher tattoo."

"I need to see what you've written about me," Elizabeth demanded as he yanked his arm out of her grip.

The watcher stiffened, "I can't do that!"

Methos turned his back on him, in case he was recognized. "I need to find out where Logan is," Elizabeth said. Darrell was stone silent, glaring at her for being put in a position that watchers clearly forbid. There was no gray area allowed for this to happen. "You saw it, didn't you?"

Darrell gave no reaction, which only made Elizabeth more angry. "You son of a bitch! You saw him attack me and Joe and you didn't do anything?"

"Watch and record," he said nobly. "That's all I do. How's Joe?"

"He's fine, no thanks to you!"

"Hey, I called the ambulance!"

"So you'll help him but you didn't lift a finger to help me?"

"Joe Dawson is mortal. You are on your own."

"How long have you been watching me?" 

Darrell hesitated then said, "For a long time."

"And you haven't developed any compassion for me at all? What am I? A lab rat? A Nazi?" No answer. "Do you know where Logan is?"

"No."

"You're lying," she decided. Then glared at him, "Thanks a lot."

"There's a lot in your chronicle about him. But I'm not his watcher, I'm yours. I can't interfere, I can only record."

"Then what use are you?"

"None to you. You aren't supposed to know I exist."

"I could say the same thing about mortals!"

"Arguing isn't going to help anyone," Amy said.

"You haven't heard of his pattern?" Elizabeth had to hold the watcher so he wouldn't walk away.

"Yes, that's why I've had a close eye on you since the beginning of the summer."

"You followed me to Mackinac Island? You were just waiting for it to happen? Is it something you were looking forward to? Get your jollies from it? Or to make sure you get my date of death right?"

"All of the above," he looked down his nose at her.

"You son of a bitch!"

Darrell countered, "You don't know anything about me!"

"I'm couldn't be happier to know there's jackasses like you in the world!" Elizabeth walked away. As Amy, Kevin and Methos stood there, Darrell ignored them and followed her.

Kevin asked, "How can someone just stand by and let innocent people get killed?"

Methos didn't answer, just pondered Kevin's question, leading Amy and Kevin safely back to Joe's in the other direction from Elizabeth on her way to the seamstress and Foley, who followed her after she got a block ahead of him.

* * *

**AT ABOUT THE SAME TIME IN SOHO**

Amanda kept an arm on Duncan as they walked down the sidewalk. Amanda intoned, "They came out of thin air." She still couldn't believe it, hated to be reminded there were such unfair members out there playing the game.

"Who?" Duncan hadn't been expecting it so that came out of thin air. They'd had a good time talking about nothing dangerous or important, then she brought up Joe. 

"Logan and his men. Men can be so infuriating. Oo," Amanda cooed, looking in a shop window. "Those shoes are exactly what I've been looking for! Ankle boots without too high of a heel."

"I thought we were going to the Guggenheim."

"It will just take a minute," Amanda promised. She walked to the door. Just as she was opening it, a man bumped into her. Amanda winced, felt a pin prick on her shoulder. The man just walked on. Amanda held her shoulder, she was in pain. 

Duncan pushed the neckline of her blouse over to inspect it, they didn't see anything. He cat-called down the sidewalk, "Hey! You can at least kiss her ass, you ass!" The man had disappeared in the crowd of people.

"You've really blended in, honey," Amanda smiled. "Maybe it was static electricity or something," Amanda said as she rubbed her shoulder. "Where did he come from?"

"I didn't see him until he was on top of you," Duncan said. "How does it feel now?" He was rubbing it.

"Fine."

"Let's get this over with." He led them inside the woman's shoe shop, even though he'd rather stick needles in his eyes. If he knew Amanda, she'd let him hear about it all day if he didn't let her have her moment.

* * *

**JOE'S APARTMENT**

Methos went right for the phone when he got back to Joe's. Amy took the bag from the drugstore and went to check on her father, who had seemingly slept the whole time they were gone.

When Kevin asked Adam who he was calling, Methos said, "I want to call a contact at the police and get a trace on that license number."

Kevin said, "I thought you didn't let the police into what you're doing. And sorry, I forgot the number."

"I didn't." When Carrie answered, Methos lighted his demeanor and asked, "Hey... can you do me a favor?"

Carrie humphed, knowing the accent as soon as he spoke, "I don't know, Adam. You only call me when you need something."

"Carrie," Methos said as he sat in the chair. "This is important."

"Isn't it always? When are you going to take me out to dinner for the last favor I did for you? I almost got caught doing that background check on the chief of police! What did you need that for?"

The chief of police, of the great city of New York, was immortal and lived in Methos' building, that's what he needed it for! Even though Carrie didn't find anything recent, how could she know the chief of police was well over three hundred years old? Methos ended up moving out of the building anyway. Why borrow trouble? He said, "This time it's a license plate, very easy. New Jersey. AXD 776. I'm at 555-9832. Can you call me as soon as you find out?"

"I'm going to demand lobster, Adam," she said. "And dancing. And you're going to enjoy it."

"I heard you." There was a buzz, from the intercom. Methos heard Amy answer it and told Blair to come on up. "Call me when you know?"

"All right. But I have my own work to do. I'll get to it when I can."

"You're a love," he smiled as he abruptly hung up on her. 

When he walked into the living room, Methos saw a short, stocky man with thinning hair being let in by Kevin. It had to be Matthew Blair. He was for a moment, leery, that he might recognize him from his time as a watcher and may have found out he was immortal. But then he remembered the watchers were far-flung. 

There were too many fingers in the pot and the left hand didn't know what the right hand was doing. And, Adam Pierson worked in the Paris bureau. Blair sounded American and wouldn't have that knowledge. Hopefully.

Amy introduced them all and nudged Kevin to the hallway. "Can you go see about Dad, honey? I don't think you should be in on this conversation."

"Why not?"

"It's watcher business and I don't even want to have it. I'd just as soon it doesn't creep into our lives."

"Okay," he said, not needing much prodding. 

Amy smiled as she sat on the couch with Blair. He didn't like the two of them looking at him, or the silence. Blair looked around and asked, "Where's Joe?"

"He's resting," Amy said. "He had a little accident last night."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blair sat uncomfortably with a briefcase in his lap. "What kind of accident?" There were unfamiliar faces in the room and he wasn't used to the building. Blair was under the impression Joe would join them.

Methos sat on the chair and said, "We need to find out about a Joshua Logan. Can you tell us who his watcher is, or if there's anything you know about him personally? Where he's holed up?"

Matthew laughed. "Joshua Logan? You're serious? The one-legged immortal? That's a myth. Immortals need two hands and two legs to defend themselves."

"So you have heard of him," Amy prodded.

"Heard, yes," Blair nodded to her with a disbelieving smile. "I've heard the stories."

"He's not a myth," Amy said. "He attacked Joe last night. Then attacked an immortal who he was with, but was shot first so she couldn't defend herself."

"Joe's hanging out with immortals? I heard that's why he left the watchers."

Amy said, "He left to pursue a singing career. Joe didn't know she was immortal. None of us did."

Methos put his head down thinking that they may have to do something to calm the increasingly jittery man, but said, "Joshua Logan information, please?"

Blair finally processed what Amy said and asked, "You said Joe was shot? How is he?"

"He's lying down," she nodded to the bedroom.

"My God... Why was he shot?"

Amy said, "Joshua Logan is after an immortal named Elizabeth Bennett. She's a friend of mine."

"You're friends with immortals, too?"

"I only just found out she was immortal. I didn't know. She didn't tell me. She didn't know about watchers as a matter of fact."

"And you told her so she had Joe shot?"

"No! It was an accident."

"There are no accidents, Ms. Thomas." When Blair said that, Methos liked his way of thinking. 

"What would you do with the information if I were to provide it?"

"Make sure Logan doesn't go on killing."

He looked at Adam and decided, "I didn't believe you could actually want that information so I didn't check. Let's see if he's in the computer."

"It's networked?"

Blair looked at him. "Yeah. You look surprised. Were you a watcher?"

"A while ago."

"We've never run across each other. What's your name again?"

Methos ignored the question to ask one of his own, "What do you have on Logan?"

Not wanting to give more than he got, Blair was quiet. He didn't see a tattoo on Pierson's wrist. Didn't know who he was talking to. Amy pleaded, "It's for Joe. Please tell us."

Joe had saved Blair's life on three occasions that he could think of off the top of his head. Got him into the watchers in the first place, so he owed him. Blair had a long and prosperous career with the watchers and didn't like to break the etched in stone rule of interfering with immortals, but one of them had almost killed his old friend. Friendship won out in his mind and he said, "Where's a phone jack?"

"Over there," she pointed to the table with the phone. "Under the table." 

Blair moved the phone aside and lifted his briefcase onto the table. He gave the modem cord to the mysterious ex-watcher to plug it in. Inside the briefcase was a laptop, which Blair turned on, then logged onto Watcher Database. 

After protecting his password from the two of them he flipped through some screens, Methos looked at what appeared to be a pretty technical set up. Much more modern than when he was with the group and networking was just a faraway dream. Even though it was networked, it seemed to Methos that the watcher needed to know what he was looking for to get anywhere, all the information wasn't at their fingertips upon logging in. That gave Methos a bit of relief, but how easy would it be to look up certain immortals? Any immortal? And get all their information such as where they lived, who they knew, what they did?

Blair got to the screen he was looking for and was surprised, "Logan **_is_** assigned a watcher. Diane Wentworth, we went through the academy together, but I haven't seen her since. She probably picked Logan as an assignment because he doesn't exist. She always was a slacker. Just like the watchers who chase the phantom known as Methos."

Methos didn't like his name being thrown about by just anyone. But he breathed easy, judging by how Blair was behaving, Methos was still a myth. 

Blair continued, "I've only heard stories about Logan, I didn't really think he actually existed." On the general information screen for the immortal, they read that Logan was born in Ireland. His first death was during the battle with Cromwell. Had lost his leg in America, 1863. That's all it said. There was nothing about the way it happened. Diane Wentworth was the latest in a string of 18 watchers who were assigned to him over the years. Would wonders ever cease? A one legged Immortal survived the last 140 years... "Elizabeth... what did you say her name is?"

"Elizabeth Bennett," Amy said.

Blair searched and flipped through some screens until one appeared with Elizabeth's picture on it. "Is that her?"

Amy looked. "Yes." Her head swam, the friend she'd known for years was catalogued in the database, like every other immortal walking the earth. Elizabeth Bennett's information was all laid out. She was born in 1831 and was turned on July 10, 1863. Methos appreciated the fact that she had been honest with them. Amy shook her head, "I still can't believe it."

Methos also read that she was a history professor and that she'd been married six times. She was christened Elizabeth Maria Hiccock, used six other names in her life. Elizabeth Tennison, Elizabeth Richardson, also Bennett, Quigley, Myers, Abernathy, and had recently reverted back to Elizabeth Bennett. Amy saw the string of names and thought she knew Elizabeth so well. Abernathy, Eliot's name brand on her, was the only one she recognized. She had told Amy that Bennett was her maiden name. They would have to have a long talk after this mess was over.

Her watcher's name was Darrell Foley. Blair used the hyperlink to his page and there was the picture of a blond man with a slight scar on his forehead that they met up with earlier. He took up residence in New York after Elizabeth moved there and had been her watcher for almost twelve years. Methos also appreciated the fact that Foley had been honest with them. Methos shook his head trying to digest it, who would have thought that both an immortal and a watcher would be honest? There was Foley's address and phone number. Methos memorized it.

Blair flipped back a screen and said, "There's nothing in here about Logan, but that would be in her personal chronicle, this is just a database." He flipped forward to Darrell's page again. "I don't know of him. Maybe he has information."

Amy wrote down the address and phone number on a piece of paper even though she thought he'd be a dead end, wouldn't give them any more than he had already. 

Methos' hands twitched he wanted so badly to peruse Blair's database for information on himself. He told them, "I think I heard Joe. Was that Joe?"

"I didn't hear anything," Amy said. 

"Maybe he's awake," Methos put a hand on Blair's shoulder and made sure he used his first name. "Do you want to see him, Matthew?"

"I'd like that," Matthew would feel better if he actually saw Joe and made sure he wasn't in trouble letting them find out as much as they did.

"Amy," Methos politely asked, "Why don't you bring Matthew to see Joe? That would cheer his old friend up."

After they left, Methos hurriedly typed Methos in the search box. The screen that popped up after the search was in fact the Methos page. Date of Birth: Unknown. Area of Birth: Unknown. Date of First Death: Unknown. First Watcher: Unknown. Etc. Methos smiled. Even though they transferred the information to the database after he left the watchers, they hadn't added anymore to it. There wasn't even a picture. Satisfied, he was going to join the others in Joe's room.

But, there was a sneaking suspicion that rose up and he couldn't stop himself from trying it. He made sure they weren't on their way back in before returning again to the search screen. He typed in "Pierson, Adam" and the laptop rumbled to life, searching the database. The screen that popped up almost knocked him to the floor. Adam Pierson's file wasn't under the watchers, he was under the immortals file. It was too easy! Adam Pierson a.k.a. 'Methos' was what the screen declared. With a picture. An old picture, when he wore his hair longer on the top**,** when he first joined the watchers and the 80s hairstyles had influenced him. In fact, Methos thought it was the picture from when he had his watcher badge made. 

The watchers realized that Adam Pierson was **_Methos_**! And they've networked their information! And put that information under a simple search of Adam Pierson! **_Anyone_** who looked up Adam Pierson would find out his secret!! If it was that easy to get a watcher to walk away from his database, who **_else_** could finagle it!!! Methos tried every way he could think of to erase the information, making the laptop crash. He turned it off and slammed down the lid.

"Beautiful!" he muttered to himself and paced. How did they find out he was Methos, and when did this happen?! Did someone suddenly develop a brain and put two and two together about what he'd been doing during his time with the Watchers? Why didn't Joe tell him his head was on the chopping block? If they knew he was Methos, did they assign a watcher to him?! Suddenly, Methos spun around to look again at the laptop, angry at himself for crashing the computer. He didn't think to look! He had to remember to be thorough, even when he felt like taking heads!

He snapped open and restarted the laptop. It went through scan disk as it wasn't shut down properly. Damn Windows based software products! It was even more annoying to him than rice farming. Then he heard voices. Methos shut it off and shut the cover again. Moved quickly to the other side of the room. Picked up a paper. Amy said, "You didn't hear Joe. He's still sleeping."

"Oh," Methos said with a slight, tight smile. "My mistake."

Blair closed the briefcase and said, "Well, I should get going. Lionel is going to head to Beijing today, I have to make that plane. Tell Joe I'm thinking about him. And good luck."

"Thank you so much for meeting with us, Mr. Blair," Amy said as she showed him to the door. Blair met Duncan and Amanda coming up the hall when he left. He nodded and went on his way, not knowing who they were. 

When they came in, the phone rang and Amy answered it in the den. Methos felt the buzzes, but knew Amanda's tell tale laugh as they came down the hall, he only stared out the window lost in his thoughts. Could there be a Methos watcher out there? He saw Amanda's, but didn't see MacLeod's new one. He had to be out there, too. Along with Methos', there could be a little hen party going on down there on the street.

Amy walked in, "Adam? The phone's for you."

_Adam. Adam Pierson_, Methos thought. He'd have to change his name. He thought that identity would be safe, at least for a while. He wondered if it was time Adam Pierson died a horrible death by decapitation so it would all be wiped out of watcher database... He'd have to move from his apartment, maybe even New York, maybe the country all together.

"Adam?" Amy repeated. When he looked at her, she smiled. "Phone call."

"Oh, thanks." 

"In your own little world, Adam," Duncan asked.

"Something like that."

It was Carrie on the phone with the information, Methos remarked, "That was fast."

"Well, I like lobster. And God help me, I like you too, Adam. The car is registered to Lawrence Tildon, Elizabeth, New Jersey. I didn't spend time looking up the title. What did you need the information for?"

"Just curious."

"I suppose you want his phone number."

Methos flinched at the karma of the city's name. Was that in Logan's mind? What kind of lunatic was he? "I couldn't care less about his phone number, I want his address."

* * *

**NEW JERSEY**

Duncan and Amanda used Joe's car to drove out to Elizabeth, New Jersey, to see Lawrence Tildon. While they were going down the turnpike, singing along to tunes, they didn't notice the short dark haired woman in the car following them. 

The woman's knuckles were white, she wanted to follow Duncan's car, but not too close. He can't know she was there. It was almost impossible, during the last couple of days since knowing he was in the city, not to get close enough to him to give herself away with her buzz. When her denizen pricked Amanda on the street, she had to duck behind a building to not be seen. The woman didn't die right away, but that was to be expected. She'd be gone within days. Then she could show herself to Duncan and they could continue what they started oh so long ago. 

They drove into Elizabeth a nice, quiet residential area. The woman wondered what the hell they were up to, and parked a couple of blocks back from where Duncan parked the Volvo. 

As they walked past the for sale sign and on to the house, they were apprehensive and surveyed the area for anyone with a glint in their eye and a gun in their hand. Amanda looked at the suburban rambler and said, "Why would they want to sell this palace?"

"They rob banks besides shooting innocent people?" Duncan offered. After the coast seemed clear, he pushed the doorbell button. "Mrs. Tildon," Duncan asked when an old woman opened the door.

She squinted through her bifocals and smiled at the young, handsome couple although she had no idea what they wanted with her, "Yes?"

"Is Mr. Tildon home... or .... your son?"

She glared at him. "My son lives in Savannah. What do you want?"

"I just want to talk to your husband, Lawrence."

"You're too late," she teared up. "He died three months ago. He had a heart attack."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"What did you want? You didn't bring the realtor, did you want to look at the house? I wasn't ready for showing..."

"Well," Duncan looked at Amanda. 

Amanda said, "Did you recently drive into New York, or let someone borrow your car?"

"My Taurus? It was stolen last week. Did you find it?"

"We think it was used in a robbery in New York City last night."

The woman put her hand to her chest. "Oh, good heavens."

Duncan and Amanda looked at each other, this was obviously a dead end. 

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Chapter Four - Cockroaches

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	4. Cockroaches

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES  
CHAPTER FOUR**

**COCKROACHES**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A Amy (OC) Elizabeth Kevin Joshua Logan

**SUMMARY**: Methos wants to take off after finding out what he most dreaded in the world, but Joe puts on a guilt trip.

**DISCLAIMER**: All disclaimers still apply.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 5, 2000   
NEW YORK CITY  
METHOS' APARTMENT**

Methos hurriedly packed his stuff and wanted to get as far away from the city and immortals and his 'so called friends' ASAP. When the phone rang, he even debated about picking it up, but it could be Joe, or worse yet, about Joe's health. Even though he wanted to throttle him, Joe Dawson was still the best friend he ever had. Methos answered on the third ring with "Yeah?"

Joe chuckled at his directness, "I was wondering where you went."

"Joe, how are you?" Methos tried to be nonchalant, but even he knew it wasn't working. He was damn angry Joe kept that piece of information quiet.

"Better, sitting up. I still can't eat though. The thought of food makes me--"

"I'm glad you called actually," Methos interrupted. "So I can tell you... I have to leave for while."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, Joe. I do."

Joe's voice became his own forceful self again, the hoarseness that came with Joe's brand of begging was in evidence, "Amy's wedding is on Saturday. If I can't make it up the aisle with her, I was hoping you could do it for me... saying you saved her life and all. And mine. Twice. Maybe more."

"Joe," Methos squinted, hating to be put in that position. "I can't."

"Adam, get your butt over here right now. We also have this Logan thing to deal with. Amy's frantic that Liz is going to take off, too."

"Joe, this doesn't have anything to do with Elizabeth, or Logan, or you. This has to do with me."

There was a pause on the line that Methos almost thought they'd been cut off. "You found out," Joe's voice was quiet, spent.

Methos straightened, as if a finger dug into the small of his back. "You know?"

"Yeah," Joe slowly admitted. "Right before I retired I heard Zoll found out who you really were."

"How did she?"

"Cassandra's watcher figured it out."

"Cassandra..." Ever since that woman walked into Duncan's dojo, Methos knew that even when she decided not to relieve him of his head, she would still be causing problems for him. "And... how long ago was that?! You didn't think to tell me?" Methos bristled. "You didn't think I'd be interested in that tidbit of information?"

"Hey! I knew you could take care of yourself. Then you moved to New York to be close to me. No one's come after you."

"Thanks, buddy!"

"Now, calm down and come over here and let's talk about it," Joe paused as the conversation was taking a lot out of his strength. "I can't get on my feet yet to kick your butt if you leave town! You can't do this to my daughter. We need you here!"

Methos didn't like Joe using Amy as a pawn to get him to his bidding, didn't like the information that Adam Pierson was in fact Methos on every database of every watcher on the planet and Joe didn't let him know, AND he didn't like one bit that a young pup mortal was telling him what to do. "Fend for yourself," Methos seethed and hung up the phone, then disconnected the cord from the wall.

* * *

**LATER - JOE'S APARTMENT **

Amy was frantic as she ate pretzels in the kitchen. She just got back from getting Joe a couple magazines at a store down the block and no one was there. She didn't know what happened to Adam, he took off without telling anyone after Blair's visit, she was on the phone trying to reach Diane Wentworth when he disappeared. Duncan and Amanda weren't back from New Jersey yet. She couldn't get a hold of Jessica, her watcher friend, then remembered she was in Washington DC on business until Thursday. She hadn't heard from Elizabeth, who should be done with the fitting. Kevin was still at the airport picking up his parents. There was too much going on and she had nothing to do but worry.

It was only when Duncan and Amanda showed up that she started to calm down. She asked them if they wouldn't mind sticking close to Elizabeth until after the wedding. They both agreed, even suggested taking Joe over to Amy's apartment and stay there also to have safety in numbers. A buzz drifted to Duncan and Amanda.

Amy didn't notice, couldn't feel it, just beamed that they agreed with her, "Between Liz's and our place, we have two extra rooms. That would be so great. I don't want to leave Joe alone."

Methos said, "I'll take your pull out sofa," as he walked into the kitchen, having used the key Joe gave him to get in. 

They looked at him, surprised. He only lived blocks away. Methos didn't want to have to explain that he was only in town for the wedding, and couldn't be at his apartment in case his address was also on the database. "Oh," he said, meekly. "I gotta move out... for a couple of days."

Duncan had to ask, "Why do you have to move out?"

Joe looked at him, wondered if he'd be forthcoming. Methos said, "My flat's getting fumigated." Joe smiled at his friend, and gave a soft, heart-felt nod of thanks.

Duncan smiled at him, "Did you have a little battle with a cockroach or something?"

Methos smiled. He'd heard of a lot of nicknames for the eminent Dr. Amy Zoll, but that one was the best so far. "Something like that."

Joe was offended, but saw Methos' smile. Duncan and Amanda didn't notice. Amanda reported to them, "The car was stolen, Mrs. Tildon already filed it with the police."

"Where's Mr. Tildon," Methos asked Duncan.

"Six feet under."

"By Logan?"

"No. A heart attack months ago. It was just a stolen car."

"We can bring your things over to Liz's as soon as she gets back, Duncan," Amy said. "I did tell her to come here, didn't I?" After Kevin nodded, she said, "I should call Terry and see if she left yet." She went back to the kitchen.

"Who's Terry?"

"The seamstress."

Methos used his cell to call Diane again, no answer. Was her cell phone dead, or did she forget to carry it with her? Who the hell was she? Could she be trusted to help them get rid of her assignment, or was she attached to the ass? Maybe she was working with Logan, that's how he could find out where Elizabeth was when it was time to attack.

When everyone spread from the bedroom, Duncan helped Joe into a spare pair of legs. Joe hated that Duncan saw him at his most vulnerable, but Duncan acted like it was old hat, even though he'd never seen him without his legs until he was shot. Joe grumbled. When he was too weak to stand, Duncan offered to carry him. Joe fumed, "Oh, God. Like a little girl. But I don't want to be locked up in here."

In the living room, Amanda asked, "Where did Elizabeth go?"

Kevin said, "To the final fitting for the dress."

When Amanda asked, "Are you sure that's where she went?", Methos smiled, glad she was asking the same questions he was. He still had mighty suspicions about an immortal who let a one-legged man terrorize her for over 150 years.

Kevin assured them, "Yes." 

The old Amanda showed up. "Oh, I hope she brings the dress with her. I'd love to see it. I love weddings." Methos saw Duncan carrying Joe into the living room and helped set him on the couch. Amanda said, "Don't you love weddings, Mac?"

"Yes, when they're not mine."

Amanda grimaced that it was too much to hope the big guy would want to settle down, really settle down with her. She must have let a flash of disappointment fly across her face because Duncan put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.

Methos told Joe, "Logan's watcher still doesn't answer her cell." 

Joe fidgeted, tried to get comfortable but it felt like a red hot poker was still in her shoulder. "Are you feeling okay," Methos asked.

"I feel like I got shot last night. How am I supposed to feel?"

Duncan positioned his legs straight for him, "Do you want to lie back down? Would that make you more comfortable?"

"I'm not comfortable in any position," he grumbled. When Methos adjusted a pillow behind his back, Joe grabbed his arm and said, "Thanks for talking to Blair for me." Then whispered, "And staying. Looking after Amy. I appreciate it."

"You'd better," Methos smiled. "I'm keeping strict accounting of what you owe me." 

"When I'm back on my feet, I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"If I still have my head," Methos groaned as he stood.

Duncan told Methos, "What's that supposed to mean?" When Methos didn't answer, he asked, "You decide when we're in town to have your apartment fumigated?"

"I have to do it sometime."

Duncan could see the look in Methos' eyes, knew he wanted more than anything to leave town, but couldn't figure out why. Amy came into the living room and said, "Now I'm worried. Liz left Terry's two hours ago."

Amanda said, "Does she have a cell phone?"

"She didn't answer it."

"Well, honey," Joe said. "The battery could be dead. She may have turned it off when she dropped the dress off at home first."

"She didn't answer there, either. And I tried NYU. I'm going to look for her."

"Stop, wait," Duncan said. "It's raining, there's traffic, her cell battery may be dead, there's a hundred reasons why she hasn't shown up."

Methos didn't verbalize that she may be sans head and Logan was the hell out of town, that's why they couldn't get in touch with his watcher, but then thought, "Was anyone here all day, besides Joe?"

"I fell asleep," Joe said. "I don't know."

Amy said that when she went for magazines, no one was there when she came back. Methos asked, "Joe, your answering machine is in the den, isn't it?"

Joe nodded. "Has anyone checked it?"

"God, Adam," Amy muttered. "Why didn't I think of that?"

The message light was blinking. When Amy pushed it, the voice announced, "Tuesday, September 5, 3:53 p.m." The message was just over an hour old. Then Liz's voice said, "Amy, this is Liz. I really need to talk to you about the sanity of all this. I thought I'd give you all some breathing room, and just went home. I bought some food, I can cook dinner for everyone if they want to be within a twelve block radius of me. You're all welcome. I hope Joe's better. If you want, I can come over later to check on him... but, I'm sure Adam's taking care of it. Call me. Or come home. Talk later."

Amy breathed a sigh of relief, then said, "Why didn't she answer when I just called?"

She was going to try again, but Duncan said, "Why don't we just go over there and check it out?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "She makes delicious stroganoff."

Amy said, "I hope that's what she's planning. Stroganoff is the only thing she can make."

The amateur chefs in the room, Duncan and Methos, both looked at Amy, who replied, "Bless her, but Elizabeth is not a good cook."

Amanda looked on the bright side, "Well, it should be interesting." Then she asked Joe, "Are you sure you're in the mood to travel?"

"I'm not sitting her while you all eat stroganoff."

* * *

**AMY AND ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT BUILDING **

When they got Joe out of the car and up the stairs, Amanda went to park it. Amy ran to the elevator and held it for them. They waited for Amanda to come running in. "It's pouring out there. When's it going to stop?"

"Before Saturday, I hope!" Amy punched the button.

When the doors opened at their floor, they felt a buzz. "She's here," Duncan announced.

"How do you..." Amy began. "Oh, yeah. Thank God."

"At least, we hope it's her," Methos commented as they brought Joe down the hall. "Amanda," he looked back at her in the hall. "You go first and we'll see what happens."

Amanda grimaced to him as she moved down the hall, "Yeah, don't worry. I'll protect you."

Amy went to Elizabeth's door and knocked. Kevin poked his head out of their apartment door, "I thought I heard you. We're in here."

"Liz, too?"

"Yeah."

"Coast's clear, Adam," Amanda smiled.

Kevin's parents, Walter and Helen, were sitting with Elizabeth at the kitchen table with glasses of wine. Having felt their buzzes, she rose and fumbled with her weapon in her sweat pant's pocket, and only relaxed when Kevin's voice didn't seem agitated.

Amy made a beeline for Elizabeth and demanded, "Where have you been? Did you get the dress?"

Methos and Duncan helped Joe in and set him on the couch. Methos noticed Elizabeth's wet hair combed straight back off her face, did a double take. She was freshly scrubbed and even in sweat pants and a t-shirt, she looked luminous. Then he remembered who she was and why his friend needed help walking from his bed to a chair and all thoughts went out of his head.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, making sure the gun wasn't seen or a was noticeable bulge in her pocket. "I got the dress. It fits, it's hemmed. Don't worry. It's in my closet."

Kevin introduced everyone to his parents and then started to pour wine for everyone. Amy put her hand on Helen's shoulder and said, "Good to see you again, Helen."

"It's soon time for you to call me Mom."

Amy kissed her on the cheek and asked, "You haven't met my father, have you?" Amy walked Walter and Helen toward the living room, "This is Joseph Dawson. Dad, this is Walter and Helen Randall."

They both looked at him and wondered why he was being carried around like an invalid. "Nice to meet you," Joe smiled, raising his hand. "Kevin is a good guy."

Amy looked Elizabeth over and asked, "You just got out of the shower?"

"A long hot bath. When I came out to put in a load of clothes in the wash, I met them in the hall as they came from the airport." She put her hand to her face and said, "I must look awful. I should go get dressed. Are you all hungry? I can start supper."

"Only if it's stroganoff," Joe piped up.

"Of course, it's the only thing I know how to make, Joe," Elizabeth smiled, knelt by him. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

Methos humphed, when he asked, all he got was a grumble. When Elizabeth asked, Joe smiled and put on a happy demeanor. Elizabeth asked, "Has Adam checked your bandage lately?"

"No."

"Do you mind if I do?"

"Go ahead," Joe said, looking at everyone. "Not with an audience though."

"What does he need a bandage for?" Walter asked his son.

"He got... hurt last night," Kevin said.

Amy quickly asked her future in-laws, "Would you both like to see what we got from the travel agent about Italy?"

Walter said, "You have to go to Florence."

"I was thinking that, too," Amy said as she steered them to the den. Kevin followed. 

Amanda said, "They seem nice."

"Why couldn't I have met them last week when I was on my own legs, so to speak?" Joe grumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt. Then put his hand over Elizabeth's when she took it personally again. He shook his hand to make sure she got that idea out of her head.

Elizabeth saw there was no blood on the bandage. "Well, it's not seeping." She cautiously lifted the corner of the tape and peered under the gauze. "Not too bad." She looked at Adam, "Do you want to see?"

He leaned in and took a look. It was still red and puffy, but no sign of infection. "Looks good."

"I hope you brought some supplies with you," Elizabeth said as she gently pulled the bandaging off. "I don't have any gauze to redress it."

Duncan said, "It's all in his bag."

Amanda handed it to her and she put a fresh bandage on. There wasn't a scissor, so she used her teeth to cut the tape before putting it on. "There," she helped him readjust his shirt. "I'll go make supper."

"Put that nutmeg in it," Joe said. "That's the secret ingredient, isn't it?"

"Nutmeg in stroganoff? I don't think so," she smiled.

"Well, what is it?"

"I'll never tell."

"I'll go help you," Amanda said. "I can bring our stuff over, too. I guess we're staying with you. Did you know that?"

"No, why?"

Duncan said, "Strength in numbers until after the wedding."

Elizabeth felt like dancing on the ceiling, "That's great. You aren't nervous about it or anything?"

Duncan said, "Adam here is even going to stay."

Elizabeth's eyes about bulged out.Methos explained, "There are massive cockroaches at my place." 

"Ah, they can be nasty. Where do you live?"

"On Moore Street."

"That's a good area."

Methos nodded, "But it has cockroaches, that I just found out about."

"So, you're going to bring them over here," Elizabeth lightly said, "Thanks."

Methos was adamant, "I'm not bringing cockroaches over here."

"How do you know?"

"I know," Methos nodded, "I know a lot of things."

"Have you checked your bags for cockroach babies?"

She wouldn't let up. Methos told her, "There are no cockroach babies in my bags. Relax."

"Relax," Elizabeth smiled. What a word. Coming from him, the most pent up man she'd ever met. "Maybe you should, too."

As she walked out, Methos mumbled, "Kind of hard to, with you around."

Amanda slapped his arm, "All those years walking the planet and no one ever taught you manners?"

Amanda was out the door before Methos registered that another young one tried to admonish him. What was he doing there if he wasn't getting credit for it?

* * *

**LATER **

Amy and Kevin were in the dining room with Kevin's parents as Duncan went through the CD collection in the living room. Methos had set his duffle in the corner and was making himself at home, sprawling on the couch. When Kevin walked in with his father, Methos noted that they both had a beer in their hands. The opening strains of "Medea" blared. Methos cringed at the music and had to ask, "Have you got another beer?"

Kevin, holding a bottle, guiltily said, "These were the last ones, sorry."

Methos looked out the window and wistfully said, "It's still raining. Hard." The nearest store was blocks away.

Kevin suggested, "Liz might have some."

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT **

Catalogues on the counter had Amanda's attention, she flipped through them as Elizabeth started dinner. Cutting up the steak, seasoning it, putting the wild rice on to boil. When she put the meat plate in the fridge to cure, she told Amanda she was going to make herself presentable. Amanda said she'd watch the rice, and went back to focusing on the catalogue.

When she heard the blow drier in the bathroom, Amanda felt a new buzz, then a sharp knock at the door. Amanda hesitantly moved toward the door, then thought, _I don't think Logan would knock_...

With trepidation anyway, Amanda looked out the peephole and saw Adam's head turned, looking down the hall, then at the door. As soon as she opened the door, Methos said, "Hey," and walked in.

"What are you doing here?"

"The screeching over there," he shook, "It's horrendous."

"Are they fighting?"

"No, MacLeod's controlling the stereo. Medea gives me a headache. He could at least put on Carmen, La Boehme..."

Amanda went back to her stool at the counter and turned the page of the catalogue. Methos looked around, felt Elizabeth's buzz but didn't see her. 

The blow dryer turned on again in the bathroom. He knocked on the ajar door. Elizabeth had changed into khakis and a cotton blouse, was bent over blow-drying her hair over her head. She jumped when she saw him from the vantage point of under her armpit. She turned off the dryer and straightened," Yes?"

He noticed she had makeup on, fluffy hair, took a minute to adjust to her transformation. "You and I drink the same brand of beer. Can I have one? It's raining and I don't want to go to the store."

"How do you know we drink the same brand of beer?"

He didn't want to tell her he saw them in the fridge earlier, was poking around her apartment, "Kevin told me."

"Grab one," Elizabeth said. "Make yourself comfortable."

Amanda shrieked, making both Methos and Elizabeth jump, rush to the kitchen. She held up the catalogue and pointed to a long red dress. "That's the perfect color," she beamed.

Elizabeth, relieved it wasn't an uninvited trouble-maker, bent over and looked at the red dress that Amanda had her finger on. Methos took a beer from the fridge and popped the cap. He was going to toss it above the fridge as was habit at MacLeod's, but instead, asked where the garbage was. Elizabeth pointed under the sink and agreed with Amanda, "That's adorable."

Methos smiled, sipped the beer. Rolling Stones emanated from the stereo in the living room. Ah, a beer, rock and roll, the only thing to spoil his mood would be a hail of bullets flying. He cautiously looked out the kitchen window. An immortal can never be too relaxed.

Amanda said, "I used to have this really soft red silk sari... I haven't been able to find one like it since."

"A sari? Have you been to India lately?"

"Not for centuries."

Elizabeth timidly asked, "Just how old are you?"

"I'm a woman, Liz," Amanda put her hand demurely to her chest. "I don't like to talk about such things."

Methos sat on the next stool and laughed. "She's still a kid."

Amanda was going to counter with, most are, compared to you, but didn't in front of Elizabeth. "I'm glad I didn't buy that dress at Bloomies today. This was one is perfect. How long does it take to receive an order?" She leafed through the catalog for the answer.

"I have no idea, I haven't ordered from them," Elizabeth said, then realized she was smack dab between the two immortals at the counter. She stepped back, still not comfortable with the closeness with any immortal, and certainly wasn't looking forward to another blame session with Adam, but asked, "How's Joe?"

"Sitting on the couch. He doesn't need 24 hour surveillance. He's fine. Or he will be." They regarded each other. Methos softly admitted, "You did good work."

It was like getting manna from heaven! Elizabeth didn't quite know why she appreciated a gift of a compliment from him, but she smiled, "Thank you. Unfortunately, I've had a lot of nursing practice."

"Yeah," Methos soured, sipped on the beer.

"I wonder what address I should have it shipped to," Amanda was lost in her task.

Elizabeth stared at Adam, tried to figure him out. He didn't seem the gym type but could see he had great muscle tone from his lower arms that peeked out of the pushed-up sleeves of the too-large navy long sleeved t-shirt. His legs were skinny but shapely under those jeans. What did he do to keep in shape, or was he naturally thin? 

That neck... she could stare at the back of his neck for ages, it was strong, smooth, seemed to be made of silk. His hair was too short. Why did he keep it in a military cut? What wars did he fight? Was he a marine? Marines seemed to live and breath their training their whole lives. Then he took another sip of beer. 

The way he held the bottle, cultured, he wasn't a marine. Ever. Of that Elizabeth was certain of. Those long, elegant fingers didn't belong holding a gun. Bet he had a great grip on a sword. There were times she thought he would whip it out and take her head any minute, but there he was, on her stool, in her kitchen, drinking her beer, seemingly at ease about it all. Who was he, where he was from, "How old are you? You aren't a woman, so you can't be offended."

"I'm still offended."

She waited, when there was no more information, she said, "I told you all about me, you can't tell me anything?"

"I'm not a threat to your health and safety."

Even Amanda caught the jab, lifted an eyebrow at Methos. Elizabeth was hurt by that remark and asked, "What are you doing here, then?"

"I'm here because of Joe and Amy."

"Well, Joe and Amy aren't here. Why don't you go find them?" Elizabeth turned the flame down on the rice and took the meat out of the fridge, started making dinner. Amanda grimaced at Methos.

It was the truth. Can't she handle the truth? He studied her as she worked on that meat. It was a sight he hadn't yet seen from her. She was hurt. He decided to make nice when Amanda kicked him under the bar. He was there until the wedding, he was at least going to have a pleasant time. He didn't want an immortal (another one) mad at him. He asked, "What are you making?"

"Stroganoff."

"Can I help?"

"No."

Amanda shut the catalogue and said, "We'll at least set the table. Right, Adam?"

* * *

**LATER **

After the table was set and Amanda went to get the others, Methos lingered by the sauce. Elizabeth put asparagus in the steamer, then turned to see Adam putting his pinky in the pot and tasting it. "You aren't afraid I'm going to poison you?"

He ignored that, "It needs... something."

Elizabeth told him as she started to stir it to keep it from burning, "It's not finished."

"What else are you going to add?" Methos looked at the ingredients set out on the counter. "I think it needs thyme."

"I don't have any thyme."

Methos joked, "Time is what immortals have in spades." She didn't even turn in his direction. "What's the secret ingredient that Joe can't figure out? I taste beef broth, garlic... something creamy..."

"That might be the cream."

Methos leaned his elbow on the counter and asked one more time, "What else are you going to put in?"

"You don't want to know," she smiled. "I'm embarrassed myself, but it's a good recipe I found in a church cookbook."

"Pony up, what is it?"

She shut the fridge and set a bottle of ketchup on the counter.

"Oh... well... okay. The miracle sauce."

* * *

**LATER**

When Elizabeth served Joe, she said, "Maybe you should just have a bowl of soup or something."

"No, I can't wait for this," Joe rubbed his hands together in anticipation as Duncan pushed his chair closer to the table. "It's been months since you cooked for me."

"Don't eat too much," Elizabeth said. "How's your heart?"

"Ticking."

Helen and Amy came in talking about the wedding and when they all sat, they were going to help themselves. Helen interrupted, "Shouldn't we grace the Lord's gifts before the meal?"

"Of course, Mom," Kevin said, bowing his head. They all did as she said grace. Then grabbed the rice, noodles, stroganoff meat sauce, rolls, wine.

As they passed the food around, Kevin said, "

They all groaned. Amy told him, "Honey, try not to be funny." They all laughed.

Helen said, "Kevin always told terrible jokes. Especially the elephant jokes."

Kevin acted shocked, "Ma... I'm hurt..."

Helen was sorry to say, "I love you to death, my child, but you can't tell a joke to save your soul."

Talk of the upcoming wedding filled the conversation until Walter spoke up and asked what everyone did for a living. He knew Amy was going for her masters in Economics, Kevin was a marketing researcher for an exporting business. Amy's father was a musician after his retirement from a researching job. What were their friends like? Duncan said he owned a dojo in Seacouver. "Oh," Walter looked at him. "What's a dojo?"

"A marital arts studio," Duncan explained. "It's a workout gym and we teach fencing."

"Fencing? Is that with swords? Is there a lot of call for that?"

Duncan smiled, "It's busy, if that's what you mean."

Walter looked at Amanda, "And you?"

"I'm... I was recently a detective."

"A cop?"

"Kind of. Only I worked for myself."

"Why don't you do that anymore? Were you shot or something?"

"No, nothing so... dramatic," she looked at Joe, who was cleaning his plate. Amanda noticed Duncan was wondering the same thing himself. "I just got tired of it, needed something new." She thought to get in touch with Nick again. He wouldn't have a thing to do with her after she shot him, turned him properly. She just made sure he got himself a good teacher and went on her way.

Walter kept needling, "To just change jobs like that. Are you rich?"

"You could say that."

"How did you get your money? Inherited it?"

Amanda thought, that's as good as anything. She had inherited her money from past lives she'd led. Nodded the affirmative to Kevin's father, who looked at Adam and said, "Well? What about you?"

Elizabeth was eager to find out all this information too. After the age remarks from the night before and earlier while making dinner, she was scared to ask. Methos answered, "I'm a researcher for the Museum of Art."

"What do you research?"

"Ancient artifacts."

"They pay well?"

Methos smiled, "I'm doing okay," then tossed in a "Sir," at the end of the response, with his eyebrow raised. Joe noticed and thanked him for being cordial with a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye.

Walter said, "How's NYU paying?" He looked at Elizabeth.

"I could always use more," she smiled. "But it's okay." She was going to miss teaching, the faculty, her students, when she has to leave the city.

When Walter told them, "You all seem like good kids," they all about spit out their food from the remark, but were gracious.

Joe said, "Yeah, they're all good people at this table, Walter. My best friends. I couldn't be more happy about the choice my daughter made for her husband." He raised his glass of wine and said, "To Amy and Kevin. May your lives be long, your love immense, your sorrows few, your children, many."

"Dad," Amy smiled as she clicked his glass. "Many children?"

"Yeah, I want grandkids on my lap."

"Then you can raise them."

Helen looked stricken, "You're going to have children, aren't you?"

"One," Kevin said. "Sure. But not many."

* * *

**AMY'S APARTMENT **

Kevin took his parents down to get a cab for them to go back to their hotel. After getting Joe settled in the spare bedroom, Duncan and Amanda were off to Elizabeth's. Duncan stopped to watch Methos make the pull out bed. He pulled Methos aside and had to ask again, "Why are you staying here?"

"You wanted safety in numbers, right?"

Duncan was pleased, "Thanks." Smiled broadly. It didn't take a lot to talk him into helping in Joe's quest, in turn, helping Elizabeth and finding Logan. "Thanks a lot."

"I live for your gratitude, Highlander," Methos mused, with a little more than the usual bit of mockery.

"But, if that's the reason, you don't have to make up the excuse of cockroaches." Duncan added, "You don't need to make excuses for helping out friends."

"Who said I'm making it up?"

"Whatever..." Duncan smiled. He didn't want to argue, was just glad he was there.

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT **

Amanda was gracious before she and Duncan retired to the spare bedroom, thanking Elizabeth for the hospitality. She in turn, thanked them for staying close. Scared after the attack, she was extremely grateful for the company, but didn't feel comfortable with immortal buzzes in her apartment all night. It would be the first time since 1920 that she tried to sleep around one. Then she had to hear their giggling. She let it go. Let them do what they want. They were there for her protection along with Amy's and Joe's. 

That other one that was staying at Amy's, though. Adam Pierson. She couldn't get a handle on him. Where was he from? How old was he? Why did he have such a chip on his shoulder? Sure, he should be upset at her, they all should. But he was the only one to make it plain, simple, and without misunderstanding that it was all her fault. If it was so bad, why was he still there? Couldn't he protect himself? Why was he staying right across the hall from the one who, as he so eloquently put it, 'a threat to their health and safety'?

Amanda and Duncan, Amy and Kevin, everyone seemed happy, at least satisfied, except for her. She was lonely since kicking her husband out. Eliot Abernathy was enjoying too many women during their marriage, but he was one sexy guy and the thought of him at that late hour, alone and in bed, made her very uncomfortable indeed, with the remembrance of his body on top of hers or spooned behind her as she slept. Lord, she missed the comfort of a man.

* * *

**WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 6, 2000  
ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT**

Since Amy went to class, Kevin went to work, and Amanda went to look up an old friend, Methos and Duncan brought Joe to Elizabeth's apartment for the day for what Joe called a change of scenery. The phone rang while Methos and Duncan were talking at the kitchen table so Joe could sleep in the chair, still insisting he was watching his soaps, not drifting off. Methos reached over and answered it. A man asked for Elizabeth. Methos said, "She's not here."

"Where is she?"

"Who is this?"

"Foley," was the short reply.

Methos straightened up in his chair. "She's at NYU." Duncan just came back from making sure she got there safely. "You didn't know that? Were you sleeping on the job?"

"I didn't see her leave the building."

Methos cringed over the ineptitude of some watchers. "Where's Logan?"

"That's what I'm calling about. I shouldn't be doing this, but I thought Elizabeth should be warned."

"Yes, you should."

"I could get fired for this."

"You could get worse than that if anyone's hurt because you worry more about your job than lives."

Long pause. "His watcher is Diane Wentworth from Denver. That's where Logan has spent most of his time." He gave the address and phone number.

"We know that already. She isn't home."

"I'd imagine you'd like her cell number then." 

"We have that too. Where is she?"

"Wentworth's in lower Manhattan, watching Logan. I really think something's up and Bennett should watch herself." He hung up.

Methos said to Duncan, "Mr. Observant didn't see Elizabeth leave the building. Did you take a back door or something?"

"No," Duncan laughed. "Well, we took Joe's car. He didn't think to look in the garage? It's not like we snuck out or anything."

Methos shrugged and called Wentworth's cell number. When she answered, he said, "I'll make this quick. Logan was hunting and shot a watcher and the watchers want him."

"I have Logan in my scope right now."

"Where," he said, more of a demand than a question.

"In Battery Park. There's a meeting of some kind with a bunch of teenagers."

"What's the address?"

"You'll never make it here in time, it's breaking up. Give me your number and I'll call when he's planted for a while."

Methos was surprised he didn't have to sweet talk the woman into helping them. "I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

"The sooner that bastard's taken," Diane sounded tired. "The sooner I can get a new assignment."

He gave his cell number and made sure it was charged. 

* * *

**BATTERY PARK **

Diane was a watcher for almost 25 years, most of it on Joshua Logan. He would stay in Denver for years, not do anything besides walk to the store for a paper every day. Then, he'd start to get visitors, travel. She saw him ambush Elizabeth Bennett in 1980. When that chilled her to the bone, she looked up the volumes on him that former watchers had catalogued and read for the first time that he had a pattern to strike Bennett every 20 years. He would kill all in the area, tell Bennett something as she's gasping for breath and then kill her, not take her head, just walk away. He'd go home and lay low again for years. The chill returned the other night when he attacked her again, only he looked like he was going to finish the job. Thank goodness those people showed up to stop him. It wasn't the fact that Bennett could lose her head to Logan that was the problem for Wentworth, it was the way he was going to do it. Immortals should have a fair fight.

Logan had only been challenged once since Diane Wentworth was assigned to him. In 1994. Logan was at a Broncos game. In the parking lot after the third quarter and it was assured in Logan's mind that they would win again. A man in a black coat walked to him after he had opened his car door and pulled out his sword. Logan, to Wentworth's estimation as she watched through binoculars, looked like he was going to shit nickels. He motioned stop to the man, then bent into the car and again straightened. Then pulled out his sword, Logan's shakiness was clearly evident to Diane, three rows away from them. Diane wondered if they'd actually have a fight there in the parking lot of Mile High Stadium. Would they be so stupid? There would be too many witnesses. But then she hoped they would. She could get a different assignment. 

It was either mind-boggling boring to chronicle Logan, or stomach wrenching. Only after a few clicks of their swords, Logan fell to the concrete. Diane felt bad he was toast, was ready to walk away before the blow came. Then jumped, heard a gunshot. She turned and saw the black coated man fall to the concrete. 

Logan lifted himself to his feet and put the pistol in his pocket, took his sword and cut off the man's head. The quickening made tons of noise, broke glass and windshields on the parked cars. There was another man hovering in the area. Diane walked to him and asked who his assignment was. "Terrence McNaughten."

"Why did he challenge for no reason," Wentworth asked.

The other watcher took it personally, "Does yours always break the rules?"

"Pretty much," she had to admit, heard Logan's car speed away before people from the stadium came running to the sound of the noise. Wentworth made a hasty departure to keep with Logan, but the other watcher called in the incident and for the clean up crew to come. It wouldn't be easy to have the 'no cops policy' this time. There was already a crowd gathered around the headless body and inspecting the damage to the surrounding cars.

As Diane watched Logan in Battery Park with three young men, she knew it was Bennett they were after once again. Why didn't Elizabeth Bennett just leave town? When Logan couldn't find her during the summer, Wentworth hoped Logan would skip the anniversary. Why was Bennett letting herself be a target? Did she have a death wish?

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT**

Amanda came back from her mysterious excursion as Duncan called NYU to check up on Elizabeth. The receptionist transferred his call to the history department and a staffer said she hadn't seen Professor Bennett all day. Duncan said that was impossible. He saw her to her classroom himself. He asked her to try again. 

They heard voices in the hallway. Amy knocked on the door, but used her key to get in. "Have you heard from Elizabeth?"

Amy's good mood was crushed with one question from Duncan. "No, I thought she'd be here."

"I brought her to work this morning."

"She's alone?" She went to the phone and called. 

Duncan said, "I already called the university."

When Elizabeth answered, Amy muttered, as a mother would to an unruly child, "Liz, where are you?" She paused then told Duncan, "She's walking down the sidewalk in front of the building." She spoke to the phone, "Well, get up here."

When Elizabeth walked in and saw the faces, full of trepidation, she asked, "What happened?"

"You were missing."

"Well, I knew where I was."

Duncan asked Elizabeth, "You left work before anyone could see you?"

"I decided to drop off the syllabus to the sub who'll take my place. I quit today." 

"Why didn't you say you'd do that when I was there?"

"I hadn't decided it yet. After looking over my course plans, I figured now was a good time for another teacher to take over. All my classes are starting new chapters. What happened?"

Methos said, "Wentworth is going to call us when she knows where Logan is ending up."

"Great," Elizabeth groaned. She had to rush home for Logan information? How bad was it going to be?

"He's in a meeting right now in the park."

"Not great," Elizabeth sank onto the couch. "What kind of meeting?"

"Can't you take a stab in the dark?"

"Yes, I can. I can still leave town."

"That's not the right decision," Duncan said. "This has to be taken care of now."

Both Elizabeth and Methos wondered if that were true. Elizabeth didn't want to be the target and maybe lose her head for good and Methos thought if she took off, they'd all be safe.

"You're staying right here," Amy said. "We're all together on this. Right?" She looked at the others. Duncan nodded, so did Amanda. Methos stuck his hands in his pockets. But he did notice that Elizabeth's attitude changed from calm woman to caged animal with the information on Logan. 

Amy sat next to her and rubbed her shoulder. "Take a breath. It's okay." 

Elizabeth leaned her head against Amy's and started to feel better. "Where is he? Is he still at the park?"

Amanda joined the party on the couch and took Elizabeth's hand, "We don't know. Diane was going to call."

She had the audacious thought of taking off to the park and ambush him, but she didn't have the guts. She saw Joe almost to the snoring stage on the recliner.

When the phone rang, more than a couple in the room jumped. It was a tinny ring, not Elizabeth's hooked up phone. Methos pulled his cell out of his pocket and answered. It was Diane, "He's in a cab, seemingly on his way to Brooklyn. Maybe he's going to the airport and leave town."

"We can only hope. Thanks. Keep us informed."

"Will do."

Methos looked at the others, "The meeting's over. Wentworth thinks he's going into Brooklyn."

Elizabeth's phone rang, making them jump. Could it be Logan? Elizabeth answered it, then tensed. "What do you want?"

Amy asked, "Is it Logan?"

Elizabeth shook her head and said, "I don't care. I already have the coffee table."

"Eliot," Amy groaned.

"Come over and we'll talk about it," Eliot suggested over the phone.

"There's nothing to talk about." Elizabeth paused, had an awful thought about the timing of Eliot's call. "What have you been doing today?"

"I called in sick to work."

"Are you sick?"

"No, I've been trying to get a hold of you. We need to talk. I miss you, Lizzie. Who's staying with you?"

Has he been watching her too? She surveilled the area out the apartment window for any trace of him. "What do you mean?"

"A guy answered the phone when I called earlier."

"He's a..." she put her phone down and asked, "Did someone call earlier?"

Methos said, "While you and Duncan were gone this morning, but they didn't say anything and hung up."

She put the phone back on her ear and looked out the window again, "People are in town for Amy's wedding. Why didn't you leave a message?" The whole time she was thinking he had gotten a hold of by Logan. That this was a trap to get her to his apartment, alone, ambush her.

"I should talk to a guy I thought you're sleeping with?" Eliot laughed. "You aren't sleeping with him, are you?"

"No."

"We need to talk. We can straighten all the crap. Please talk to me."

Amy pulled on Elizabeth's arm, "Why are you still giving him the time of day? Hang up."

Elizabeth ignored her and asked Eliot, "Where are you?"

"At home. Come over. We'll talk."

Elizabeth ended the call without saying a word. Amy said, "Good. Dad's still sleeping. Kevin is with his parents. I should go and be sociable. Do you want to come with me?"

"No," Elizabeth said. "I think I'm going to see what Eliot has to say."

"Who's Eliot?" Duncan asked.

"My ex-husband."

Amy said, "You're not going over there alone."

"I'm a big girl, Amy. He just wants to talk."

Everyone in the room didn't know why she would crave the numbers, but want to gallivant out alone again. Elizabeth felt the backpack, knew that her gun was in there, but did she load it that morning? "He only lives three blocks away. It's broad daylight. You said Logan was in Brooklyn. I'll be right back."

Amanda said, "Should I go with you?"

"No, I'd just as soon outrun him myself, not have to worry about anyone else."

"Honey," Amanda boasted. "I'm probably faster than you are."

"We were going to the opera tonight," Duncan reminded her. "It was one of all the New York things on your list to do. Remember?"

"Go," Elizabeth said. "Here's my cell number," she wrote it on a piece of paper. "Call me if you hear anything. Eliot lives in the orange brick building down the block. You can see it from here. I'll be back in an hour, tops. I'd like to see what he has to say." Or have the ambush happen away from the others. Just, have it all over.

After she left, Joe snorted in his sleep. Methos and Duncan looked at each other and figured he should be put back in bed. 

* * *

**AMY'S APARTMENT **

Amy and Kevin went to the hotel to see his parents while Duncan and Methos transferred Joe back to Amy's and he still denied he fell asleep, didn't want to be put into the bed. He didn't like to see anyone while he was down, and when they carried him across the hall and Amanda hovering like a nurse, he just wanted his legs again. Duncan told him no again, he was too weak to stand, let alone walk on them. 

As soon as he was deposited on the spare room's bed, Joe was out again. After Duncan made sure Methos was going to stick around in case Joe needed anything, he and Amanda went back to Elizabeth's to change into their evening clothes for the opera. Methos laid a blanket over Joe, accidently waking him. "What's going on?"

"We were rehashing the drama queen's day," Methos said.

"Methos, that's unfair. She's in it deep."

"I know," he said as he tucked the covers around Joe's body to keep him warm.

Joe had to slap his hands, wondered when Methos became his overprotective mother. "We can trust her. I don't want anything to happen to her, just like I don't want any harm to come to any of us. Equally."

"What do you know about an Eliot?" Methos walked into the attached bathroom and filled a glass of water.

"Eliot?"

Methos gave Joe the glass and a Tylenol from the medicine bag. "Her ex-husband."

"I know that." Joe shook his head. He looked at the Tylenol. "Do I really need this?"

"Do you have any pain?"

"Not really, when I'm settled."

Methos put the glass and pills on the table next to the bed within Joe's reach. "You can take it later if you want. Did she ever talk about him?"

"Eliot? As little as possible. He was philandering."

Methos wondered why. He had to be an idiot. Methos himself had always been faithful to the one he was with, didn't understand stepping out on them. He gave his lovers and spouses the dignity of leaving them all together to pursue other interests, not just leave them by deed. You can't work both ways.

Joe squinted, "Why do you ask about Eliot?"

"She went over to see him."

"Why?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

"Why?"

"Maybe he's in on the plot."

"A plot. For what?"

"He's not immortal, is he?"

"I seriously doubt it. Liz told me the other night she was leery of immortals. She certainly wouldn't have married one."

Methos realized they had something in common. 

* * *

**ELIOT'S APARTMENT **

On the way to Eliot's building, she was ready for anyone to appear out of the blue. She pushed the intercom button and he buzzed the door without even asking who it was. Stepping back from the door and again looking around the area, she decided to not live with the fear anymore. Whatever would happen is going to happen since there weren't any innocent bystanders around, just Eliot, and if he was working with Logan, she didn't care what happened to him. The lump in her backpack gave her the extra courage she needed.

Eliot was standing in the hallway as she got off the elevator. "Thanks for coming, Lizzie." Eliot was blond, blue eyed, packed solid, could knock the wind out of her sails with a look that he perfected since he hit puberty. As he hugged her, she tensed, kept an eye on the surroundings, don't melt. There wasn't a buzz in his apartment as she walked in slowly, eyes darting for anything out of the ordinary. Eliot was an immaculate housekeeper and true to form, there wasn't a thing out of place. 

As she sat on the sofa with her eye on the window, she asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

He closed the door and said, "Us."

"There is no us."

"There still can be. I never stopped loving you." 

Her mind flashed to 1920 when John Dieterle told her, _I love you_, then hugged her, then said, _Let me say one thing first. I'm sorry_.

Eliot sat next to her and put his hand on Elizabeth's knee, "Let me tell you something."

Elizabeth tensed, flung his hand off, ready to unzip her bag for the gun. "What?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

She stood, alert. Eliot said, "Somebody is after you, isn't there?"

She thrust her hand in the backpack. The feel of the cold steel at her fingertips warmed her, "How do you know?"

"He called me."

"For what? What are you supposed to do for him?" 

She took the gun out, making Eliot jump back in shock. "What the hell is that for!"

"How much is he paying you? Where is he? What are you supposed to do?" She frantically looked around. She came over expecting it, but self preservation kicked in and she wanted to get the hell out of there.

Eliot put his hands up as she was waving the gun around. "What? He's... Liz, put that down!"

He tackled her, pulled the gun out of her hand, sat back, took the clip out. "What are you carrying a gun for? I was worried before, but now I'm petrified for you! When did you start carrying a gun?"

Elizabeth cowered away from him. How did she lose the gun so quickly? She should just offer up her head and get it over with, she can't protect herself, let alone Amy or Kevin or Joe.

He asked her again, "Why?"

"What did that man ask you to do?"

"Nothing. Is that what's the matter? He didn't ask me to do anything. He only wanted information."

"What kind of information?"

"Where you live for one."

"Did you tell him?"

"No."

"How did he know about you in the first place?"

"That's what I wanted to find out. He wouldn't tell me."

"What all did he say? When was this?"

"About a month ago," Eliot said, trying to calm himself down, knowing that only then would Elizabeth calm too. "An Irish sounding man called and asked questions about you, like where you work, where you live, who you know." He saw the look of fear in her eyes and didn't like it. She never had a reason to fear him, she had a reason to kick him in the balls, make his life a living hell for his sleeping around, but not to fear him. "I didn't tell him anything. It's no one's business."

She didn't know if she could believe that. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You weren't home, then I figured it wasn't that big of deal. I forgot about it."

"Why is it a big deal now? Today?"

"Because he called me early this morning when I was going to leave for work. He asked if I wanted to make some money. When I told him no, he hung up. I didn't tell him anything, but it worried me. You have to be careful. Who is he? Where did you meet him? What did you do that made him angry? He sounded... sinister."

Her cell phone rang, startling her. "Hello?" She fully expected it to be Logan.

Amy said, "We're going to have supper at the hotel. Do you want to come about 8 tonight? Get a hold of the others? I can't reach them, only Adam. He's at my place in case Dad wakes up."

"I'll see."

"Are you still at Eliot's?"

"Yeah."

"What did he want?"

"To talk, I guess."

"Tell him to drop dead."

"Amy! Bye." She ended the call and looked at Eliot, "Amy sends her best regards."

"I bet," Eliot smiled.

"So, that's what you wanted to talk about? The Irish guy?"

"Isn't that enough? If you're willing, I would like to give a talk about getting back together a shot."

"Eliot, I don't know if I'm all that willing."

"Why did you come here then?"

"I thought... some problems I'm having would be over if I did."

"The Irish guy?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"An enemy."

"You? Enemies?" he smiled, confused. Everything she'd done since coming to his apartment was confusing.

She asked for her gun back and said she had to leave. He grunted, "I'm not letting you go out there with a gun. Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes. It's for protection only."

"But you pointed it at me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I misunderstood."

"I'd never hurt you, Liz," he said. Then noted her hurt expression. "I didn't mean to ever hurt you."

"Really. I should have just looked the other way? Wait at home until you decided to sleep in my bed for once?" He was going to get into it again, but she just took her gun and inserted the clip. "I gotta go."

He stopped her at the door. "You can count on me. If you need anything, you just have to call."

She smiled, it felt good to know she may be able to count on another person in her quest to stay safe from Logan, and hugged him. "Thanks, but, I have to do this on my own. You take care. And if you hear from him again, you'll call me?"

"You think he'll call again? I wasn't very helpful to him."

"Just, watch your back for a while to be on the safe side."

"What the hell does that mean?"

She left without answering, needed air. By the time she got to the sidewalk, she felt like a goldfish in a bowl. Someone was watching her, she just knew it. Elizabeth hoped it was just Foley, but walked fast back to her place to be on the safe side. She looked in all directions, even up on the higher floors and roofs of the buildings for snipers. The tingles of nervousness wouldn't stop, so she started running, then bumped into a man on the sidewalk, who she didn't see as she was busy looking in all other directions. When she started to apologize for not looking where she was going, she saw that he was pointing a gun at her and a sudden sensation of a buzz.

* * *

**AMY'S APARTMENT **

Methos had fallen asleep on the couch, was aroused by an approaching buzz, about jumped out of his skin when someone crashed into the door and fumbled with the lock. He leaped to get his Ivanhoe and had it at ready, leaning against the wall when Elizabeth barreled into the room.

They both jumped when they saw each other, he with his sword at her neck, she with a gun in her hand. Methos ducked out of firing range. "Are you completely insane?!"

"What the hell are you trying to do, scaring me half to death?!" she screamed, flung his sword back with her hand, cutting it in the process.

He looked at the gun, "You're packing heat now?"

"Of course."

"Do you have a permit for that?"

"Well... seven days is an awfully long waiting period."

She tried to catch her breath as she watched her hand heal. Then ran to the window and looked out, hiding herself by the wall. Methos pulled the gun out of her hands. "Where did you get the gun?"

She moved him back from the window and said, "From a guy selling them out of the trunk of a car. I'm not planning on using it unless I have to."

Methos looked out the window, at her, at the gun in his hands. "Do you at least know how to use one?"

"Yes. I've had one before. My aim is pretty good."

"Just don't miss and hit me."

Elizabeth tore her glance off the window to glare at him, "If I do, it's not like you're dead. You should be more worried about my sword. With half the things that come out of your mouth, I'm surprised I haven't taken your head already."

"As if you could!"

"Why are you here, anyway? Your apartment can't be that overrun with vermin."

"Don't you like having reinforcements? That's why you came here instead of your own apartment? You felt the buzz and knew someone was here to protect you?"

"Oh, is that what you are? Protection? I'm sorry. I haven't see that side of you yet." Elizabeth looked around Amy's apartment and didn't feel right being there without them home, alone with Adam. "Where's the other 'reinforcements'? I didn't think there'd just be you here."

"Hey! We would have taken off if it wasn't for Joe and Amy's wedding."

"Funny, that's why I'm still here, too. I resigned from the U, I'm taking off as soon as Amy leaves for her honeymoon. I can't wait for it to be over. For it all to be over!" She closed the curtains and leaned against the wall, slid down it, holding herself, trying to pull herself together.

"What happened?"

"Oh," she groaned. "Don't pretend you care." 

Methos looked at the gun as he set it on the table, "Is this your big plan? Buy a gun and wait to be ambushed? Are you thinking clearly?"

"It's already happened. Why do you think I ran in here when I felt a buzz? I was hoping it would be Duncan or Amanda."

Methos ignored that, "Logan's out there?"

"Yes!"

Methos peered down out the window as his body was protected from the wall. A woman was staring up at the building, Methos seethed, it had to be Wentworth. He called her cell number and as soon as she answered, he screamed, "You could have warned us!"

Diane said, "I can't! That's against the rules."

"Rules?! That maniac could take out more watchers while you have your thumb up your arse! Would you be able to deal with that?! Where is he?"

"He just came out of her building. He's hailing a cab. Did you surprise him up there?"

Methos was so pissed at Elizabeth and her buzz that another one didn't register. Did Logan feel a more powerful buzz and split, or did he not even get close enough? That one legged guy was a puzzle.

Wentworth said, "Logan's leaving. So am I."

"If he comes within a mile of any of us, call!"

Wentworth ended the call, wondering what Elizabeth, an immortal was doing with watchers. Why were they protecting her? And why hadn't she been notified about it? There was no time to ask such questions, her assignment was getting away.

Methos slammed the phone down. Joe hollered from the bedroom, "What the hell's going on?"

Elizabeth wasn't in the room, but the door was open. Methos went to the doorway of the bedroom to tell Joe, "Nothing. TV. Be right back."

He went out to the hallway and felt a buzz. Elizabeth had to have gone to her own apartment. Methos knocked on the door.

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT **

Elizabeth was huddled in the corner of the living room floor, not knowing what to do. She looked at the gun in her hand. The seconds outside repeated over and over in her mind. A man appeared out of no where, gun on her, the buzz of Logan coming closer. She had gotten her gun out of the backpack as she kicked the gun out of his hand, surprising herself at her speed. But it was an adrenaline rush. When she held her gun to his face, she couldn't shoot him. She froze. But knowing Logan had to be around there close, she kicked the man in the balls and ran instead, hoping she wouldn't be shot in the back. As she was running for the safety of her building, she couldn't believe it was happening. It was broad daylight, and a few people, witnesses around! Logan had to be desperate and she could see the end of her life. 

Tears were sour on Elizabeth's cheeks as she sat in that corner of her living room. She didn't even have the courage to look outside, not having a back up immortal around. Elizabeth just wanted the world to disappear. Carlton was only trying to save Logan's life. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he accept it, live a different life without hatred and revenge? The vision of seeing her young sister-in-law, Marcy, that Logan must have confused with her, lying on the alley, throat cut, made the tears flow like a faucet. 

Then there was a buzz, and a rap at the door, making her jump, but couldn't move from her perch. Could Logan be so bold? She tried to soften her breathing, quiet down, but couldn't. As much as she wanted to run away from everything, including Adam, she couldn't move.

Methos said through the door, "Elizabeth? It's Adam. Open up." That didn't calm her. She didn't need a lecture about bringing danger to them again. No one could do as good a job as herself. Methos knocked again, "Come on!"

His booming authoritative voice jolted her off the floor and to the door to face his wrath. When she opened the door, she turned away, didn't want him to see her not being able to stop the crying, or the shaking. He shut the door and asked, "What happened out there?" To her surprise, his voice was soft.

She sat on the couch and looked at the gun still in her hand. "I couldn't do it," she croaked, closing her eyes. "I couldn't finish it." Methos sat next to her. "Logan was close, I could feel him. I couldn't do it. I couldn't shoot him. I failed." It wasn't a video game, that she was proficient at. It was a real man with a real gun who brought real danger and she couldn't inflict violence.

Methos took the gun out of her hand. "Where there others with him?"

She nodded. "One had a gun on me." She half heartedly smiled, proud, "I got the gun away from him." She cringed again. "But I couldn't shoot him, even though it was on his agenda to shoot me. I kicked him and ran. Mrs. Landry was coming out of the building." She laughed, "I didn't have to fumble for my key. I could have gotten stuck in the vestibule if she hadn't come out. I'll have to do something really nice for her." She couldn't stop laughing when she started, the nerves were bubbling all over her body. "I could have died." She laughed.

"That's not funny," Methos stared at her.

"No, it isn't..." She finally silenced. Wiped the tears away. "I'm sorry. I just... don't get that close to death very often." She looked at the gun on the table. "When I bought that, the guy said he had bullet proof vests. I was going to buy one, then was going to buy seven of them, but he'd only take cash. I didn't have enough on me."

Methos waited while she pulled herself together. That immortal woman who he was nervous of and mad at was thinking of them, and was definitely scared. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and massaged. She tightened from the sudden, unexpected movement, then relaxed. "Thanks. I was expecting a sermon."

"About what?"

"About bringing Logan to your door."

"It's your door."

"But, don't you want to take off, be free of this, of my problem?"

"Yes. But it's not just your problem. We'll have to travel in packs until the wedding. You aren't going anywhere alone anymore." She looked back at him. "None of us are going to be alone. Logan could use one of us against you. Let's start by calling everyone to come back here, then wait it out."

She felt like crying again. He was the last person she expected that from. "Thank you." Suddenly, she was breathing easier.

Methos nodded and smiled, making her feel safe. He was still angry at the circumstances of the week, but realized by how she reacted to everything that happened that it wasn't her fault. Joe and Amy would spend their last breath about how trustworthy she was. Methos just hoped their last breath wouldn't be drawn for a very long time. He, Duncan and Amanda would make sure it wouldn't.

* * *

**AMY'S APARTMENT**

Methos got a hold of Duncan on his cell phone, just as they were walking into the theater. Amanda was a little ticked, but when Methos described the reason for the intrusion, they agreed to forgo it and get back to the others. There would be many more opportunities to see Medea, could even play the CD again that evening, it could wait. 

They all gathered in Amy's living room, Kevin had just got back from the hotel his parents are staying in after dropping them off from a day of museum hopping. When Amy asked what happened to make even Adam adamant about being a pack, Elizabeth wouldn't say, Adam only said, "There was a close call, that's all."

Even after prodding from Duncan and Amy, they didn't say anything. Methos actually was thinking that Elizabeth would break down again and didn't think that would do anyone any good, and Elizabeth didn't want to vocalize her failure to everyone. If she could only have shot that man, Logan, and anyone who was with him, it would all be over. She would have a hard time living with herself for killing mortals, but it would be all over with. Elizabeth sat quietly dreaming about what her life would be like without the threat of Logan in her life, but then, it was too much to hope. She then imagined what it would be like to lose her head, for good. Would she feel it? Was there an afterlife for immortals? Would she still be conscious inside of Logan's brain? 

Amy sat by her and wondered what she was thinking, but didn't like it when Elizabeth was quiet and only wanted her to know that they were there for her, not push or prod. She'd tell her when she was ready to talk. While she was held by Walker, she was frightened, but had the knowledge that she was a pawn, not Walker's target and that alone made her know that she would walk away from it all. Elizabeth was the target and even though she wasn't in his immediate grasp, it was enough to make her feel like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Kevin said he was going to turn in, he had to go into work earlier to work on an account before his two week honeymoon. As soon as the words, 'go to work' came out of his mouth, Duncan argued that he wasn't going anywhere. Kevin was stunned, "I'm not immortal. Logan wouldn't be after me. He probably doesn't know anything about me."

"He could have seen you," Elizabeth gravely said. "Then you'd be a target."

"It's really important that I get that work done before we leave, Amy," he stated to only her, not the others.

Duncan said, "Then I'll go with you."

"No," Amy said. "That's splitting us up again." She was scared to death something would happen to Kevin. Or Duncan. Any of them.

"If I take a cab from door to door. The office is full of people," Kevin pointed out. "I really have stuff I have to do."

"Is it worth risking your life?" Methos' comment got him.

"How? Why me?"

"You could be a nice little pawn to kidnap and use as a bargaining chip for her head," he pointed at Elizabeth, who put her head in her hands. When she got up to make herself another whiskey coke. Methos seemed to know, as he said, "Get me another beer." She nodded and went to the kitchen.

Amy asked Kevin, "It's only two days. Is it really that important?"

"If I want that promotion, yes," he said, then saw the dire faces of the people in the room. People he didn't even know about a week ago, now dictated his life. "But I could just work harder after we get back."

"Thank you, honey," Amy kissed him. 

"What about my parents?" Kevin looked at their faces, not getting an answer. "We just leave them at the hotel until the wedding? They wanted to go sightseeing tomorrow."

Amy thought about that, then looked at the immortals, "It's not like we can explain this to them."

"You're having wedding plan problems?" Amanda suggested. "Helen's been married. She may know things can go wrong. And you're too tired at night to go out..."

Kevin looked at Amy and hugged her. "Okay. We'll stay here. I'll do as much as I can by phone." He smiled, wide. "My friends told me to watch out. Married life changes you. They were right." He kissed Amy and said, "But you're worth it."

They retired to their room, said they were going to call his parents. Elizabeth came in with a beer and a tall, dark liquid filled glass. After a while of listening to music and only a little talking, Amanda fell asleep on the couch, then Duncan. 

Elizabeth yawned, "I guess I'll call it a night, too. Good night."

Methos said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Elizabeth looked back at Adam, wondering if he wanted to keep talking or something. He pointed at Duncan and Amanda and said, "Bring them with you. They're on my bed."

They tried to nudge them, but they were testy, wouldn't budge. Elizabeth offered, "Well, they'll eventually wake up. Or, you can have their room."

"Do you have a change of sheets?"

She laughed. "Probably." Methos smiled, stared at her. Her laughter faded and stayed a grin, liking the smile on his mouth. It wasn't an everyday occurrence and was nice. She liked seeing it a lot, it lit up her whole face. When the stare became uncomfortable as there weren't words to say, she took the blankets from the chest and covered Duncan and Amanda, trying not to wake them.

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT**

When they got to her place, Elizabeth pointed out where the spare room, bathroom, towels and fridge were. Methos smiled, "Yeah, I've been here before."

She tossed a set of sheets at him, "Here. Or do you want help changing them?"

He tossed them back at her, "You can do it. You're the hostess."

She tossed them back, "I'm not your maid. I'll help though."

After they changed the sheets, Methos said he'd be fine. "Good night." After she left the room, he looked around it. MacLeod's shaving kit was on the dresser. Methos fingered through it. Amanda's undies were on the chair. The framed picture on the wall across the bed caught his attention. Three union soldiers leaning on a fence. One of the men's faces was fuzzy, he probably moved when the picture was taken. One was looking at the ground, looked tired. The last was posed with his rifle on his hip. As he undressed and slipped into bed, he kept looking at the picture. The three faces of man. On the move, accepting of the situation, or ready for attack.

Elizabeth's buzz was close, probably just on the other side of the wall, from when he remembered the layout of her bedroom when he walked in on her as on the phone. He wondered about Logan. Methos had never been leery of mortals before. Never had to be leery of anyone not in the immediately vicinity, except watchers. How could Wentworth not call? Logan couldn't be that fast. She seemed trustworthy on the phone, but she was a watcher. Then he realized he couldn't lump them all together. Look at Joe. Good, solid, loyal. Loyal. Was that her problem? Wentworth cared more for her assignment than who he was after? 

Methos didn't worry about immortals because he steered clear of them. There was something about that immortal in the other room that didn't spook him or want to steer clear of. He wanted to know more about her. She was pretty open. She had a sword on him over a hundred years before and she didn't challenge. Methos smiled. Not that she would have a chance in hell of winning, but that didn't stop others from challenging him. He saw how she looked at him since her run in with Logan earlier that day, when she thought he wasn't looking. He liked it. He was an oddity that she couldn't figure out and he felt it was a good move on his part. She wanted to figure him out for friendship, not as a tactical advantage to use in battle.

Was he still in New York City just to make MacLeod, Joe and Amy happy? He started to fall asleep when the image of Elizabeth back in 1898 came back to him. She wore brown pants, unheard of for a woman to wear pants. She also wore chaps, a blue checked flannel shirt. Her long, wild hair that came out of the ponytail. And her sword. Pointed at him. How she fell so fast when he pulled her leg from his sleeping position in the bed roll on the ground. He fell asleep replaying their first meeting in his mind.

In Elizabeth's room, she tossed and turned. Adam had been wearing a pair of long johns. His hair was wavy, almost to his shoulders. He wore a beard and mustache. Wasn't in the least bit modest, even though he was hanging out. She would have liked to stay back then and get to know him, have protection, or someone to help her in her quest to go after Logan. She'd been alone for so long. Not alone in the strict sense, she always seemed to have a man most of the time, but alone in her emotional life. She really didn't have anyone in her life that knew exactly what she was and what an immortal went through on a day to day basis. The only one was her first husband, when she was still mortal. Teddy. He was the only one she felt a peer to, not different, better than or inferior to. Back in 1898, she had an agenda on her mind, she needed to find Logan. 

Elizabeth turned in bed again, not wanting to think about Logan, just for a little while. Her mind returned to the wakened man in dirty white long johns by a fading fire. Then the to same man who sat at her kitchen counter sipping on a beer. Where in the world was he from? She fell asleep wondering if she would ever have the chance to find out.

**CONTINUED** in Chapter Five - Union 

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	5. Union

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES  
CHAPTER FIVE**

**UNION**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

  
  


**RATING**: **ADULT** - If you're too young, hit the back button. You have been warned. 

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A Amy (OC) Kevin, Elizabeth, various others

**SUMMARY**: Amy's wedding. 

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 9, 2000   
NEW YORK CITY  
ST. THOMAS CHURCH**

Joe beamed as he sat in a wheelchair next to the front pew across the aisle from Walter and Helen. His happiness wasn't only due to the fact that his daughter was getting married to a good man, but that Amy had placed him**,** in the center of it all. The program listed him as father of the bride, their invitations listed him along with Walter and Helen, proudly presenting their children for marriage. As he sat there, with the congregation around him, the only thing that bothered him was that he couldn't walk her up the aisle; he was trapped in this contraption. It had been five days since he was shot and had gotten a replacement for his broken prosthetic left leg. He could stand, move around, but he was unstable and could fall at any point if he was too tired. The likelihood of it happening on their way up the aisle was too much for Joe to even think about. When Duncan suggested a wheelchair, Joe's first instinct was to bark at him and dismiss the idea; then he realized it was a stable way for him to make sure he witnessed his daughter's joy. 

Amy wanted him to 'wheel' her up the aisle, but he vetoed that. He told her he wanted to see her walk up the aisle, for the people to be looking at her, not him. Amanda rubbed Joe's shoulder and took his hand when the music started, signaling the start of the procession. Duncan, next to Amanda, winked at Kevin standing by the minster**,** gave a strength gesture and smiled. Kevin looked as if he was on the verge of fainting, sweat was visible on his forehead. 

The flutists and organist began playing and everyone turned when the double doors at the end of the aisle opened. Rachel, in a soft pink off the shoulder dress, and a flower clip in her short blond bob walked up the aisle with Doug, Kevin's best friend from college. 

Out of sight from the gathered guests, Amy shifted her feet, making her almost tip over. Methos grabbed her arm and hooked her hand at his elbow. "You don't want to break your leg before the wedding night."

"Am I all hooked?" Amy fumbled with the skirt of the cream silhouette dress, then with the short, soft veil that covered her head.

Elizabeth, wearing the same dress as Rachel, hurriedly checked her, even though she'd been fussing over her for the last four hours. "You're all hooked and look stunning." She kissed Amy on the cheek, careful not to get lipstick on her. Elizabeth spied Adam out of the corner of her eye and smiled, "You both look pretty good."

Methos puffed up his chest. It wasn't a daily event to wear a tuxedo, and he thought he filled it out pretty nicely, too. That Elizabeth would comment, made him even more pleased. The last couple days together had gone better. The immortals around her seemed to calm her, not make her nervous. Their conversations started to become more open, light, not a hint of guilt or blame in sight.

Amy grabbed Elizabeth's hand and said, "Thank you both for being here with me. But... I think I'm going to throw up."

Methos laughed. "It's just another day, Amy. Think about tomorrow."

That seemed to calm her, but she said, "I just know something's going to go wrong. I just know it."

Elizabeth fussed with Amy's veil and her hair knowing it would calm Amy to know she was taken care of. Methos said, "There is something very wrong". Amy looked about ready to faint and her mind reeled thinking what it could possibly be. He smiled and said, "The matron of honor and the best man aren't walking down the aisle."

Elizabeth took that comment, coming from Adam, to mean that something else was her fault. Chad tapped her on the shoulder, making her even more embarrassed. Methos watched Elizabeth and Chad move to the door and start up the aisle. Then he whispered to Amy, "You're radiant. There's nothing to this. Believe me."

"Have you been down the aisle many times, Adam?"

"Once or twice." She was going to ask him more, but he leaned close and said, "Just say 'I do' and don't drop the ring. Keep your knees bent."

"Why?"

"You won't pass out."

"Oh, great."

The music shifted to Ode to Joy. The congregation stood and looked back at the door with agreeable and supporting smiles as Methos led Amy to the door, proud of the honor of walking her down the aisle to her future. The wedding was beautiful, perfect. Not a hitch, except Elizabeth dropped Kevin's ring when the pastor asked for it. 

* * *

**ST. REGIS SHERATON **

The smoked salmon was on the appetizer table, the specially flown in chicken was tender, as it was meant to be. Only when Amy and Kevin danced their dance did she finally relax and start to actually enjoy herself. At a table centered around the wheelchair, Joe, Methos, Duncan, and Elizabeth toasted the new couple. "You did a good job, there, Adam," Joe said. "I couldn't have walked Amy up the aisle any better myself."

"It's not just anyone who can get me into a monkey suit, Joe."

"Hey," Elizabeth said, "You haven't known torture until you've put on an attendant's dress." She thumbed the neckline of the soft pink dress she wore. "At least it's not taffeta."

  
  


Methos thought it was beautiful. It was low on her shoulders and with her long hair up and wearing makeup applied by a professional, who came to the apartment to transform her, Amy, Helen, Amanda and Rachel for the evening, she was a looker. 

Amanda came from the ladies' room after fixing her makeup and bumped into a man walking along the outskirts of the people on the dance floor. "Excuse me," she said, then felt a prick on her shoulder again. She exclaimed at the pain and held her shoulder, rubbing it. The man was gone. She moved her neckline over**;** there wasn't any trace of a wound or scar. Amanda dismissed it as static electricity, but two instances of a very intense shock in one week was strange.

As soon as she joined them at the table, Duncan stood**,** held his hand out to Amanda and took her out to the dance floor. Methos was thinking of asking Elizabeth to dance when Doug beat him to it. He was almost jealous when the good looking, single man whispered in her ear and held out his hand. She smiled a nice smile at him and took his hand, let him lead her to the dance floor. From their body language all day, Methos knew they had known each other for a while.

Joe bopped Methos on the arm, "Why didn't you do that?"

"What? And leave you at the table alone?"

"I'm portable." he said, motioning to the wheelchair they rented. "In fact, I'm going to leave you at the table. There's a nice looking lady over by the bar who can't stop checking me out."

Methos looked over at the bar and saw the nicely dressed woman, blond with a trace of gray, leaning against the bar, smiling in their direction. She looked in her early 50s. The woman was petite and pretty in a soft lilac dress and wore a lot of shimmering diamonds. "Onward, my friend," Methos said. "Don't let me stop you."

"You couldn't, even if you tried," Joe smiled and wheeled away. 

After taking a couple of sips from his beer and not enjoying the music in the least, Methos was going to hit the road. His job was done. Amy was married. Joe was healing. Elizabeth was going to leave town and everyone would be safe. He looked at Joe and the very attractive woman that was talking to him. Methos didn't ever think of his friend as smooth, a womanizer. Joe wheeled himself near a table and the woman in lilac sat in a chair very close to his. They looked to be in the midst of an in-depth conversation. 

Methos noticed Duncan and Amanda on the dance floor. Entwined together they didn't have a clue there was anyone else on the planet. But she seemed unusually heavy on her feet. Amy and Kevin were dancing with his parents, but kept their eyes only on each other. Ah, young love, Methos smiled. It did sometimes warm his heart. Elizabeth moved in perfect unison with Doug. Over the past couple of days, he realized she was noone to be leery of. It was only who was after her. Logan wasn't stupid enough to come back to the apartment, and since his failed ambush they didn't leave it, except in groups. They even went together to the tux rental place for Kevin and Walter and Methos to get their tuxes fitted. Methos knew they all had an eye and an ear to the door during the wedding ceremony, especially on their way from the church to the hotel. They hadn't heard or felt a peep from Logan for days. If the little prick was smart enough, he would have left town. 

Methos gulped down the rest of his brew and walked onto the dance floor. He tapped MacLeod on the shoulder. "May I?"

"Oh," Amanda smiled, feeling light headed, looking at Methos. "I'd be honored."

Duncan stepped back and Methos put his arm around Amanda's waist and swung her around in time to the music, making her giggle, then dizzy. She stumbled. He laughed at her. "Straighten up, you're making me look bad."

"Yeah, I have two left feet tonight. Maybe it's too much champagne."

He saw Elizabeth and the looker chatting each other up and laughing as they danced. Methos moved Amanda across the dance floor making sure he bumped into Doug's back. 

"Oh," Methos said. "Sorry. Hey... would you mind changing partners?"

Amanda looked at the tall dark stranger and said, "I wouldn't mind at all." Doug smiled at Amanda and turned into her arms, swinging her away. 

Elizabeth thought Doug left awfully quick, but then again, she was no Amanda. Adam wanted to dance with her? She stared at him. 

Methos smiled and held out his arms. Elizabeth walked into them and put her right hand in his and her left arm on his shoulder. "Why didn't you just ask me earlier?"

He just shrugged. The roundabout way had been the method to his madness for 5000 years, why change now? Just as they got comfortable and actually started dancing, the song was over. They clapped with everyone else. She was going to walk back to the table, but Methos stopped her, spun her back into his grip. "I'm asking you now."

She smiled, "There's no music."

"There will be."

There wasn't. Instead of starting a new song, the singer went to the microphone and announced, "You've all been great, we're going to take a short 10 minute break."

"They'll be back in ten minutes," Methos said. "I can wait."

Elizabeth smiled, not recognizing Adam's manner. He was loose, seemingly feeling good. "Are you drunk?"

"No. I don't get drunk," he was almost offended. They were the only ones on the dance floor. Everyone else was standing around talking, at the bar, or sitting back at tables. 

Elizabeth returned Methos' stare. "I feel ridiculous. We can dance later."

"Okay," he finally said, but didn't lose the smile. "Let's go get us a beer."

"I'd rather have a glass of wine."

"Coming right up."

They had to move and to do that they had to unclench themselves before they could do anything. Elizabeth looked at Adam in that tux. She saw it on him in the store, in the vestibule of the church, but in the lighting of the dance hall, he was almost breathtaking. She didn't think he'd be so overwhelming. Adam was 'cute' in his jeans, cords, over sized sweaters, T-shirts under unbuttoned shirts, but his aura glowed when he put on that tux. Their eyes locked. When they finally did release themselves from each other, they grinned. Elizabeth said, "I'm going to go to the powder room."

Methos kept his grip on her hand, "Why do they call it that?"

"We powder our noses in there?"

"Yeah, I do see a little shine there. You look a little flushed too. Am I too much for you?"

She gave him the once over, he noticed and posed for her. "I'm not going to say anything that would get me in trouble," she said, smiled, and walked away, but held on to his hand until it was impossible to do so from a distance.

When Methos got to the table with a beer and a glass of wine, Duncan said, "It's about time."

"For what?"

"You and Liz. You have a lot in common."

"Really? I don't see that."

"You both wanted to run. You both stayed in town for the wedding, you for Joe, Liz for Amy."

Methos considered what he said. Wanted to run? How did Duncan know he was going to take off. He didn't tell him, he figured that Joe had. Yes, they must have talked a lot about him, but neither of them had let him in on the fact that they both know the watchers knew who Methos was.

Duncan, not noticing Methos' look, commented, "Well, she is pretty. Looks nice all fixed up."

"She looks nice all the time," Methos said into his glass of beer, before he drank. When Duncan smiled, Methos turned his attention to his blabbermouth friend. Blabbermouth except when it came to telling him, Methos, that his head could be on the chopping block. "Joe actually got that woman to talk to him."

Duncan watched them as a waiter served them champagne. He smiled. "He's going to be good as new, isn't he?"

"There's a lot of mileage on that body, Mac."

"You and Liz did nice work."

Methos hunched his upper body over the table to get closer to Duncan to say, "I've known Joe for over 15 years. I knew him when he still had brown hair. I've seen him in all sorts of situations, emotions, events... he's slowing down, MacLeod."

"Joe?" Duncan asked, looking at Joe smooth talking the woman that was the object of his attention. "He's still got the fire, Adam."

"But how much can his body take?"

Amanda slid into the chair next to Duncan and kissed him, making Methos and Elizabeth, who stood behind their display, raise an eyebrow. What were they? Teenagers? "Here's the wine, as you ordered," Methos said, raising the glass of wine. Elizabeth took it and thanked him. Drank it while Amanda still sucked on Duncan, and he didn't appear to mind at all. 

"Now, she's drunk," Elizabeth pointed at Amanda. "She almost fell off the toilet in there."

"Oo, too much information," Methos said. 

Elizabeth sat next to Adam and looked him up and down, exclaiming, "You look handsome in a tux. You should wear suits more often."

"No," he grinned. "That's not my style."

"You like the grad look? I can't tell you apart from one of my students." The band set up again. Elizabeth stood and said, "Ah, here's our chance."

The singer got to the mike and said, "It's time for the money dance."

Methos stood and was going to move her to the dance floor when Elizabeth grumbled, "Oh," and sat back down.

Methos looked back at her. "What's the matter?"

"The Money Dance."

That didn't mean a thing to Methos who asked, "What's that?"

"You haven't been to many weddings, have you?"

"Not lately."

"The women dance with Kevin and the men dance with Amy and we give them money for their trousseau."

Methos looked around the room. "That could take all night. There's a lot of people here."

"We don't dance the whole song. Just a few twirls with them."

"Oh, okay. Come on," he said after he already had her on her feet and they were making a beeline toward the bride and groom.

Elizabeth was deposited in the line that formed by Kevin and Methos cut into the line that gathered in front of Amy, then he tapped the shoulder of the man in front of him, "Hold my spot?" The guy nodded and went back to talking to the other guy in line. 

Methos walked back to Elizabeth and asked, "How much money do you give them?"

"Anything you want. Usually it's a five or ten or more."

A woman ahead of Elizabeth smiled and said, "The more the merrier."

Methos shrugged, whatever that meant. Mortals... a few drinks and they were under the table. On his way back to the other line, he saw Amanda a couple of women behind Elizabeth. She was acting like she was actually drunk, what was with her? Duncan was a few men behind him and he motioned to Duncan as if to say, 'what the hell is wrong with her?'

Duncan only shrugged keeping his eye on her. They slowly made there way up the line. When it was Methos' turn with Amy, she smiled and hugged him extra long as they swayed from side to side in a circle. "Thank you so much for being here, Adam. I don't know what Dad and I would have done if you had taken off."

"There's a lot of talking going on behind my back, isn't there?"

"Only because we care, Adam. I want to thank you again for saving my life. I don't know if I properly thanked you, you know, after Walker..."

"Don't mention it. You shouldn't have been involved in the first place."

"Morgan Walker..." Amy muttered, "What an asshole. Joshua Logan..." She whispered into his ear, "Are there a lot of asshole immortals out there?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But you don't have to worry about them anymore." The next man in line tapped Methos on the shoulder. Methos kissed Amy on the cheek and said, "Good luck in your life." He stepped back from her, then said, "Oh, wait." He smiled as he took Amy in his arms again and slipped a bill in her pouch. "I forgot the most important part of this custom."

"Adam! Was that a hundred dollar bill?"

All he had in his wallet, hundreds. He whispered, "If Kevin does anything to make you sad, mad, or indifferent, you give me a call."

"Thank you, Adam. You're the best. But, can I call if we're fine?"

"Absolutely."

"That means you'll have to tell me where you are."

"I'll work it out."

The man behind Methos was impatient, so he stepped back and presented Amy to the next dancer and reached for Elizabeth's hand, pulling her away from Kevin.

After Methos directed Elizabeth off the dance floor and into the hallway, he pulled her into a clench. "Now it's our turn," he said, just as the song ended making Methos and Elizabeth laugh hysterically. 

'Living La Viva Loca' started. She groaned, "Oh, God... that song is never going to die."

They slow danced to it anyway, which was difficult with the beat. People walking to and from the bathroom smiled and moved past them. Being unable to take it any longer, Elizabeth stretched up and kissed Adam, taking him by surprise. He held her tighter, moved her against the wall. She was surprised by just how soft his lips were, and that he actually kissed her back. She whispered, "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Why didn't you?"

"I thought you'd bite my head off."

"No," he assured her with a deep, comforting voice that could be classified as seductive. "I might bite something else, but not your head. I like it right there on your shoulders. Let's get out of here." 

At that moment, if he wanted her to jump off the building, she'd ask him from which floor. She almost fell, he seemed serious. Very serious. She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant. He was the most astounding man she'd met, ever. Only four days ago he was making sure she knew everything was all her fault. As he stared at her with a hiked eyebrow, waiting for an answer or a move, anything to make him know she heard him, she smiled, "We can't do that."

"Why not? You're not married any longer."

"It's protocol for the wedding party to stay until after the bride and groom leave for their honeymoon."

Methos whispered, "Protocol is important to you?"

"Kinda," she moaned, swooned as his hand pressed the small of her back.

"You don't like bending the rules?"

"Sometimes."

"Now is the perfect opportunity."

She collapsed from the weight of the will power it took to hold him off. "I can't, Adam. Amy would kill me, I'm matron of honor. I can only handle one death sentence at a time. Don't you want to see them off?"

"Oh, yeah," he grimaced. "I live for that." Irony oozed making her add his wit to the long list of positive attributes. His eyes, hands, neck, loyalty, height, accent, taste in music, the ability to constantly amaze her, the list was endless.

They went back into the hall and joined their friends gathered at the table. Joe introduced them to Caroline, saving the best for last, Joe said, "This is my very good friend, Adam."

Methos eyed Joe and his youthful exuberance, then took Caroline's diamond decorated hand, "Good to meet you." 

Caroline looked at the others around the table. Elizabeth offered her hand in a shake, smiled, but couldn't really move since Amanda's head was resting on her shoulder, having been placed there the moment she sat down. 

"I think I'm going to throw up," Amanda moaned when Elizabeth tapped her on the cheek, wondering if she fell asleep or had passed out. Duncan pulled Amanda back so he could see her face, trying to determine why she was acting like she never had before. 

"Is she all right?" Caroline asked.

"Maybe too much champagne?" Elizabeth asked Duncan.

Methos said, "I've seen her put away two bottles and not act like that**."**

Duncan wondered when that was. Amanda said, "I think I should visit the ladies' room again."

"Okay," Elizabeth lightly said to Amanda. "Let's go." Elizabeth stood and helped her, but it wasn't enough. Caroline graciously stood and took Amanda's other arm. They both talked to her as she stumbled toward the bathroom. Then Amanda hooked onto Elizabeth. Caroline turned back toward the table. When she met Duncan's gaze, she hiked a finger for him to come. He got up and went to 'rescue' Amanda. 

Methos turned to Joe, who's face was covered with a satisfied smile as he looked down at his scotch and water. "Caroline's lovely, Joe."

Joe nodded, unable to comprehend his luck at finding her and spending time at the table getting to know her. He lifted the drink to his lips, but Methos took it. When he set it back on the table, he said, "How many have you had?"

"What? Drinks? Are you serious?"

"You're still being medicated, Joe."

"I'm a big boy, Adam. I think I can handle my liquor." 

"You just met Caroline. Who is she?"

"I'm not sure," Joe's eyes twinkled. "But I sure want to find out. Did you get a look at her legs?"

Methos humphed, "I couldn't get past the hardware around her neck, on her fingers, her wrist... She could be married."

"She's divorced. She's an editor for Vanity Fair. She has three children. A grandchild. A little girl."

"What does she want with you?"

Joe's eyes suddenly squinted, the humor gone, "Say what?"

"I didn't mean it like... you just met her. Just be careful, that's all I'm saying. Isn't she the least little bit leery of you? She seems to have taken no time in wrangling you in."

"She's a fan. I found out she owns my CD. It just came out and she has it. And knows the lyrics. She also told me she saw me perform last month. Any other questions? Dad?"

Methos brought the beer to his lips and smiled, "Just making sure all you young whipper snappers are taken care of before I hit the road."

"Adam," Joe said. "Thanks for sticking around. You don't have to leave New York. No one is after you. I would never let you be in a vulnerable position. I didn't tell you because there's nothing to worry about. Methos is so imbedded in the watcher system that no one..."

"That's not all together true!" Joe had to sit back when Methos erupted. "A simple search on Blair's laptop, and there it was, for anyone to find!"

"Calm down!" Joe shifted in his chair, waited for the stares to ebb before saying, "Blair has certain clearance. He's not an ordinary watcher. He's got seniority. He can be trusted."

"He may be, but he's awfully naive to just walk away from his laptop with an information database up and running!"

"Do you really think I'd let you walk into trouble? Do you really think that?!!" Joe was ready to wheel away, couldn't believe his friend's reaction. "You have to start trusting the people who deserve your trust Adam, or you're going to walk into your own danger."

The dancers on the floor parted as Duncan walked to the table with Amanda in his arms, she was passed out. "I'll take her home. She can sleep it off."

Elizabeth straightened Amanda's coat over her and asked, "Do you need help?"

"No, he doesn't need help," Methos told her. "She's just drunk. Just stick her in a corner and she'll heal." Duncan, Joe and Elizabeth were all surprised by his attitude. Methos only stewed, suddenly in a very bad mood. Duncan asked Elizabeth to help and they got Amanda to the door.

In the lobby, the doorman saw Duncan coming out of the ballroom and walking toward the door with a woman in his arms. The doorman opened the door and asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Grab a taxi for us?"

"Yes, sir," He let Elizabeth take the door and he scurried to the curb, held out his hand authoritatively toward the traffic and a cab came to a stop in front of him. The doorman opened the back seat and stepped back.

Duncan deposited Amanda in the back seat, arranged her clothing and coat, then reached into his pocket for a tip for the guy. Elizabeth tried to determine if Amanda was still in the land of the living. She was completely out, but she had a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. The cabbie looked at the sleeping Amanda and asked, "Where to?"

Elizabeth told him, "6th Street." When she stood, she reached into her purse and gave Duncan a spare key to her apartment. "I hope she feels better."

"She just needs to sleep it off." Duncan got into the other side of the back seat. As soon as the door shut, the cabbie drove off.

She felt a buzz, her eyes darted around, she'd forgotten that there could also be mortals with guns out there. She headed back to the door and saw Adam. She relaxed, only to realize Adam was reacting to another buzz. They both looked in all directions for Logan. What they found was a woman with short black hair, who's soul attention was focused on watching the taxi with Duncan and Amanda drive down the street. She then disappeared into the park. 

"Who was that," Elizabeth said. 

Methos didn't care and since she was gone, didn't give her a second thought, saying as he joined her at the curb, "You can't help nursing people? I thought you were going to get in that cab with them."

"Only if you did, too."

"Ah," he smiled. "I'm not the only one with a one track mind?"

"It depends on where that track is going."

"You know it's itinerary," he lead her inside. At the lobby, he stopped and said, "I have to do something. I'll meet you back inside in a minute."

"Okay," Elizabeth was going to wait for him, but he flicked his hand the way he'd done it over a hundred years before, motioning her back to the party and not focused on him. As if that was an easy thing to do... When she was gone, he walked to the desk.

Their table had been taken over by two other couples. She saw Caroline standing next to the stage and then through the throng, she saw Joe take his place at the mike. Elizabeth got a glass of wine from the bartender and was going to join Amy and Kevin at their table, but they got up to dance yet again. Doug was sitting alone at a table, but she didn't want to be talking with him when Adam came back. Elizabeth leaned against the wall, sipped her wine and listened as Joe started "This is the Time of Our Lives". A guy came over and asked if she wanted to dance. She politely refused and after he left, she wondered what was taking Adam so long.

After the song, Amy went up to the stage and hugged her father long and hard. Kissed him on the cheek. Kevin took the mike and thanked everyone for coming and celebrating with them and then announced that they'd had it for the evening. They left the stage and walked through the people, saying goodbye to the guests. They stopped at Elizabeth**,** Amy didn't say a word, just grabbed her into a hug. "You enjoy yourself, Amy," Elizabeth whispered to her. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"We're sisters, Liz," Amy told her as she ended the embrace, but Elizabeth kept hold of her. "Thank you for everything. I suppose you're leaving now."

Elizabeth nodded.

"You keep your head. Call me. You know where I'll be."

"I will," Elizabeth said as she kissed Kevin. "You take excellent care of her."

"That's my priority."

As soon as Kevin and Amy were ensconced in the limo it left the Waldorf, and Elizabeth went to the coat check to get her coat, not knowing where in the world Adam was. He probably came to his senses and skipped out on her, or maybe he caught up with that female immortal outside. Or maybe he found Logan lurking around. When she felt a buzz before even collecting her coat, she was definitely worried. Adam appeared at her side, he already had his coat slung over his arm. "Come on." 

As he led her across the lobby, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Where were you? I thought you left."

"I've been here the whole time."

"Where are we going?"

He pushed the up button on the elevator and announced, "I got a suite."

"Oh, that's nice. So, you're not staying at my place tonight?"

"No."

"Okay, well..." she was more than disappointed.

"Neither are you."

Were her feet still planted on the floor? She couldn't tell, but she couldn't let him know she was easy for God's sake. "That's a little forward, isn't it?"

"Do you want to go home, alone?"

"No."

"Okay, then. It's better you keep quiet."

"I should go get my coat," she said, pointing at the man still holding it at the coat check counter.

"You can get it later."

When the elevator opened, they moved in. A couple jumped in before the doors closed. The older woman saw Elizabeth's dress and commented, "The wedding was lovely, don't you think?"

"Yes. Do you know the bride or the groom?"

"I'm Kevin's aunt, Dorothy. You're Elizabeth, the matron of honor, right?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you," she held out her hand and felt Adam's hand at her shoulder, making it's way down her back.

Dorothy said, "This is Kevin's uncle, Ted."

Elizabeth smiled and shook hands with him. "Hi, Ted. I'm a friend of Amy's." She giggled as Methos rubbed her butt. "This is Adam." She took his offending hand off her bottom and held it out for them to shake.

"Oh, yes. You stood up for Amy. Wasn't she beautiful? And her father, Joseph, is a wonderful man and what a singer. I almost cried when he sang."

"Joe sang?" Methos asked, but his attention was only on Elizabeth and her dress. 

The couple got out on the fourth floor. Elizabeth looked at the only other lighted button. "Top floor. That must be pretty expensive."

"Obscenely," he moaned with his mouth at her ear. She grabbed his hands and wrapped them around her front. He pressed his body against her back. His breaths in her ear relaxed her apprehension perfectly. When his tongue tickled behind her ear and licked at her hairline, goose bumps appeared on her bare shoulders. He rubbed at her breasts through the silk dress and she leaned back against him, their backward motion was stopped by the wall.

The doors opened and they rushed out. She asked, "What room?"

"This one," he said as he fumbled with the plastic key card in the lock, pulled it out, nothing. "Damn it," he mumbled. "Modern crap! What's so bad about keys that we have to deal with these insipid things?" He put the key back in slowly and slowly pulled it out. Green light. He took Elizabeth's arm and pushed her into the room. Methos took the 'Do Not Disturb' sign off the inside handle and placed it over the outside handle and went inside, shutting the door to Room 1120 behind them.

The suite was nice, tastefully decorated with two bedrooms and a bath connected to the great room which contained a brocade couch and matching chairs in front of a stone fireplace. Gold seemed to be the predominate color and it gleamed when Methos flipped on the light switch. 

Even though Elizabeth had never been in such luxury before, the suite didn't hold her attention in the slightest. The man standing by the door, did. By the time she saw him, Methos had shed his tux jacket and was trying to untie the bow tie that Duncan had made for him earlier that evening. Elizabeth went to help him, hurry things along. He pushed her hands away indicating he could do it himself, so she put her arms around his waist and unsnapped the cummerbund. "So many layers to tuxes make it sexier to undress," she said.

"Damn this tie!"

She unbuttoned his shirt from the second button down to his waist and hiked it out of his pants, watching him yank at the tie. "I really think I can help. I can see the problem, you can't." His response was to yank harder on it. "You're going to choke yourself."

He took his hands away from the tie and rubbed her bare shoulders. She was having trouble with it too, "Jeez, where did Duncan learn how to tie ties?" Using her fingernails and teeth, she worked at the stubborn knot. While she was busy, Methos moved his hands to the buttons on the back of her dress and undid one, then two, then three. Even though he was unbuttoning fast, he wasn't making any headway. He leaned over her shoulder and saw the reason. There had to be a million tiny buttons confining her inside that dress.

She pulled off the tie, loosened his collar and was busy kissing his neck, smelling him when she felt his hands yank at her dress. "Careful," she said. "I don't want to ruin the dress."

Silk ripped and buttons bounced down her back. She pulled back, annoyed. Her dress fell to her waist. Because the dress was designed with a built in bra he was pleased, it was so easy to get to the cache. "That's more like it," he said, as he softly took each breast in his hands.

She pulled her arms out of the dress**,** reached out and roughly pulled off his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders. "Hey," he smiled. "This is a rental."

"So I have to be careful, unlike you with this dress**,** that I had to buy?"

"I'll buy you another one."

"Hm, a nice hotel room... you can buy a $1800 dress at the drop of a hat..."

"$1800? For that?" He looked down at the dress in a new light. Clothes...

"Yes."

"Well, it's coming off."

"If you say so," she grinned conceding. She wiggled her hips and it slid to the floor. Then she kicked off her shoes for good measure. 

To give orders and have them obeyed... what an achievement. Methos smiled as he looked at the garter belt and hose. He stepped closer. "I haven't fiddled with these in a long time."

"I hate panty hose."

"Bless you for that." His head grazed her cheek as he expertly flipped the clips on the back.

She knew at that moment she was in good hands. She unzipped his pants and was pleased to feel he was hard as a rock. As he grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, he kissed her deeply, felt her tremble at his touch. She smelled his aftershave and moaned as he twirled his tongue around hers. She was all his. His fingers expertly unsnapped the two hooks on the front of the garter, deftly caressing her inner thighs before putting his hands in her underwear and rubbing. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck. When he lifted her up, she held on tight and hooked her feet around his back. He blindly walked to one of the doors with her in his arms, thinking a bed had to be around there somewhere. The door he found was to the bathroom. "For future reference," he giggled. 

She laughed, then looked into the room, "Oh, a jacuzzi..."

He nibbled at her neck as he carried her across the living room to the other door. She fondled his head and flicked her tongue in and out of his ear. She murmured something he didn't catch, but words weren't foremost in his mind. 

When he finally got them to the bedroom, Methos dropped her on the end of the bed and slid off her underwear, leaving the garter belt. Then pulled back. She was going to complain, but discovered he moved away only to drop his boxers. He was certainly prepared, fully at attention. Falling to his knees between her legs**,** at the end of the bed, he laid her flat on the bed, leaned over her, kissing her stomach, then flicking his tongue in and around her navel. She spread her legs to give him more room, welcoming him. 

Cupping his head in her hands, she had to hold back the dull roar that gathered in her throat as he suckled one breast and fondled the other, brushing his finger over an erect nipple. He made his way up her body past her neck, kissing her chin, mouth, nose, eyes, forehead. Then continued lifting his body over and above her. 

She caressed his neck, chest, and kissed his solid stomach as he made his way up. Reaching down his body, she softly rubbed his penis as it darted across her stomach, then patted his balls. He put a knee on the edge of the bed, put his hands under her arms and pulled her all the way up on the bed so her head was on the pillow. They laughed as he reached under her for the bedspread and sheet and pulled them down from underneath her as smoothly as someone stripping a table of it's cloth without disturbing the place settings.

She grabbed at the headboard spikes as his mouth lingered at her waist. He reached back up and took hold of her hand, adroitly spreading her legs with his other hand. 

She couldn't get enough of him, wondering if the evening, from the moment he broke into dance with her, was all a dream. During the past week, they started out as cautious enemies, moved on to cordial acquaintances, then became distant friends. She had to caress his face, shoulder, back, as he moved on top of her, just to make sure he was real. She squeezed his butt, waiting for him to enter her. She was throbbing, itchy, the wait was killing her and she wondered where he got the will power to hold off the inevitable. She was so wet. She wanted no part of waiting, it was the hardest part... 

Methos was more than surprised with the night's turn of events. He only stayed in town to make sure Joe survived, walk Amy down the aisle and grab a beer before going on his way. He only delayed leaving, after the band started the reception, to talk to MacLeod and Joe because he intended to be gone a long time. 

Then he saw Elizabeth in the dim light as he'd never seen her before. He'd slept at her apartment, felt her buzz at night, and it didn't stir him. She was too dangerous to be around. Not that she would take his head when his back was turned, he knew that wasn't a possibility, but there was a mad man after her. Was he insane? When he watched her move with that man on the dance floor, all he wanted was to be the one she rubbed against. For that night and the next day, he would be taken care of by that woman, then he'd be off. 

Elizabeth surprised him by flipping them over as she fondled his penis, red and ready. Crawling on top, she sat on him, hard. They both yelled as she encircled his middle. She threw her head back as she wiggled, then rose and fell on his crotch. He sat up and grabbed her head, his fingers searched for the pins that held her hair in the chignon. When he yanked on a pin, she cringed, let her head fall back. 

"You're going to snarl it. Let me." She reached up and worked one pin out, then the rest. He fluffed her hair over her shoulders, smelled it and kissed her shoulder. He hiked them both up as he rocked, pushing his feet into the bed. She grabbed behind him for the head board for support as he bucked himself in and out of her. 

She wasn't allowing him to get in as deep as he wanted, was going too fast for his taste. He wanted to savor, spend time inside her, not jerk in and out, so he flipped them over again taking control. His hot breath on her face meshed with her own. His thrusts became deeper, softer, smoother, infinitely more satisfying. She lifted her head to kiss him and had to grab the headboard spokes again to steady herself as Methos enveloped her mouth, tongue exploring, overwhelming her at both ends. 

In her rapture, she clawed at him and scratched diagonally up across his back. He lifted his head in pain but didn't**,** for one instant, stop his momentum. She screeched as his thrusts became more powerful and faster as they neared climax. His sex flowed into her and she wanted desperately to wrap herself around him, in that instant wishing he'd stay forever, but she had the deep feeling that she couldn't trust the reality of the situation. Adam was immortal and she had already learned her lesson about lowering your guard to one**;** spending three days at the bottom of a river back in 1920. She wondered if she would ever find anyone to give all of herself to and wished that Adam would be the one... still, she couldn't tell. He'd been many things since she met him. She laid her legs on the bed and grabbed again at the spokes. He nudged her head with his nose and pulled her leg up getting back into the momentum of things.

He made a final, deep thrust, pulled her hands from the headboard and laid their clenched hands straight out, slipping his fingers through hers. When he kissed her again**,** so deep her head pushed into the pillow, she put an arm around him. The blue sparks took care of his back and she had to move her hand away from it. "I'm sorry."

He moaned, "My dear, you have nothing to be sorry for."

She embraced his face, surprised that he was still inside her, even though he was finished and began to shrink. He stayed inside, swayed his hips from side to side making her groan, involuntarily shake, even though there was no benefit for him in that gesture. How did he do that? They studied each others faces, the expression of satisfaction, how sex changed the way they looked, and how they looked at each other.

Methos finally slid off of her. He pulled the covers over them and laid his head back on her arm. He held her right hand. Straightening her fingers and holding them between his own. She had long fingers, almost as long as his. There was a little scar over the knuckle of her pointing finger. "What happened there?"

Elizabeth sleepily replied, "I broke a bottle in my tavern."

"You owned a tavern?" His interest was peeked once again.

"Yeah," she still had trouble evening out her breathing. "In Gettysburg." She looked at her finger. "That was the last scar I got while mortal."

It had been awhile since he enjoyed a woman. Eons since he slept with an immortal. They had more years of practice and peak years than mortals, he had forgotten that after he became a hot property and shunned them. Elizabeth reiterated it for him big time and he laid on his side studying her face and body language. Soft, comforting, satisfied.

They waited for their breath to even out, both contented. As he looked at her, she stared back into those eyes of his. Was she in a dream? Did she have anything to be worried about from him? All sorts of questions. Then he promptly fell asleep.

* * *

**A LITTLE EARLIER AT ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT **

Duncan carried Amanda into the apartment. When Amanda stirred in Duncan's arms and told him she could walk herself, he let her down in the living room. She had to sit down, too dizzy. Duncan laughed. "Did you have too much to drink?"

"I must have."

She laid down on the couch in her gown. Duncan got out of his tux and hung it up. Amanda was sleeping when he got back to the living room. He looked at her for a while, wondering if he should undress her. When he did, she didn't even stir. When he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, she was limp. He felt her neck. She had an uneven pulse, he couldn't remember how much she drank. He looked at her for a while, but she was in a deep sleep. He soon joined her. 

Later, Amanda woke, sick to her stomach. Shaky. She was sweaty and the sheets and her pillow were soaked. She reached out her hand and bonked Duncan on the shoulder. "Are you sick? We didn't get food poisoning, did we? From the salmon? How can I be this sick? I've never been sick before."

Duncan groaned, tired, but turned to look at her. She was quiet again, sweating profusely. Duncan woke up. He was worried, also. Didn't know what was wrong. "Do you have to throw up? Maybe you'll feel better."

"Yeah, but I can't move."

When he tipped her over**,** so her head hung over the side of the bed, he noticed the moisture on the sheets. He was going to lift her to bring her into the bathroom, but she shook and was foaming at the mouth. "Amanda!?"

She couldn't hear him. He turned her back onto the bed and sat over her, lifted open one of her eyelids. There was solid white where her pupil and iris should have been. "Hey!" Her buzz silenced. Amanda was dead. He was rubbing his hand against her shoulder when he felt something. He pulled her Vera Wang designer creation to the side and saw a big, purple scab. "What happened?"

He felt for a pulse. Nothing. "Amanda!" he screamed as he slapped her, tried to awaken her. She was dead, so he sat back and waited.

She revived. Coughed out the foam and gunk from her lungs. Blue sparks took care of her shoulder's scab and her internal organs that the poison had violated over the course of the week. Soon, her head cleared. "What happened?"

"You died!"

Duncan's voice, and his face, right in hers**,** scared her for a second, "Why?"

"That's for you to tell me!" Duncan got on his knees and scrutinized Amanda. "Are you on something? Are you taking drugs?"

"No!"

"What happened?"

"I don't know," she said, rubbing her stomach. "But I feel better."

"You look terrible."

"What a thing to say." Amanda sat up. She was confused. "I feel really good. The dizziness I've felt all week is gone."

"You had something on your shoulder."

"Which one?"

He pointed, felt it. The scab was gone. She remembered the man at the dance. At the same time Duncan was remembering the man on the street earlier in the week. When they compared stories, they still came up with nothing. Except, they both agreed that the first time, the poison wasn't enough to kill her, only make her dizzy. This time it worked. But who could be after her? Duncan interrogated her and she honestly said, "No one, MacLeod!" There wouldn't be anyone after her. So, maybe it had to do with Logan, or Methos, or Duncan himself.

* * *

**SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 10, 2000  
ST. REGIS ROOM 1120**

Elizabeth woke up to the sight of Adam's back as he slept. There was a minuscule scar on his left shoulder that she traced with her finger. When he stirred, she asked where he got it.

"I don't know," he sleepily grumbled. "It was before I turned, obviously."

"How long ago was that?" Methos was silent.

Elizabeth asked, "You can't remember, or you're not going to tell me?"

Methos didn't want to answer such a question, tried to think of what would be a nice time frame to tell her. He vividly remembered what he did 500 years before, a 1000 years, some times more, depending on where he was and what he was thinking about. There was no way this woman could know he was Methos and he didn't want her to think him an idiot for not remembering when he turned since most immortals did by the sound of it.

"Fine," she said after a moment of silence from him, let down. She took the silent treatment to mean he wasn't going to tell her. She had been right, she couldn't trust him. She rolled over and looked at the clock. 4:20 am. The buses weren't running yet and she decided to wait until at least daybreak before going home. Logan could be out there so she wasn't going to walk. She turned on her side, away from him, and tried to go back to sleep. Couldn't, so she looked at the dark wood night stand, the gold lamp, the painting on the wall wondering if it was a real Renoir or not. How much did this room, or rather, suite of rooms go for at the last minute?

Methos rolled over, looked at her side of the bed and noticed her defensive form facing in the other direction. Okay, he'd have to go with that. There was no need, for the few hours they had to spend together, to put himself in a vulnerable position. He pulled the sheet down, exposing both of them to the chill of the air. She looked over her shoulder at him, he'd surprised her, again. Before she could speak, he turned her flat onto her stomach and hiked himself up on his elbow alongside of her. 

When he leaned over and kissed her shoulder, she asked, "What are you doing?"

He softly said, "Sh...," while pulling her long hair behind her head, exposing her ear as her face was turned away from him. He leaned over and gently tickled her earlobe with his tongue and nibbled at her ear, making her hike her shoulder up and letting a soft giggle escape. He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbed the goose bumps away with his hand, warming her. 

When she lifted her head to look at him, he turned her head and placed it back on the bed, facing away from him. He rubbed his finger down her spine, starting at her neck and softly traced it down her back. The sensation of his finger moving over her body was wonderful and he saw her relax, heard her breath a little deeper. He moved his hand around her waist and up to her breast. She lifted enough for him to take hold of it. 

Mistakenly, she lifted her head again. He took his hand away. She smiled figuring out his game, and laid her head back where it was, facing away from him. Closing her eyes she felt his fingers starting on her back again, tracing up her spine, across her shoulder, to her arm, which he pulled down to her side and massaged, and every molecule of her body reacted obligingly. 

Methos wrapped a leg around hers and she moved herself closer to him. His fingers were circling back up her arm, across her shoulder blade, and down her back again stopping at her butt. He squeezed a cheek and moved his fingers down her crack, just a ways, then back to her spine. His fingers were replaced by his full hand as he deeply massaged her back and sides. Wanting to be connected to him, and needing to hold onto something as her body felt like it would rumble off the bed, she reached her other hand out and curled it around the arm he had bent by her shoulder. So much muscle, so much power in this man. What his touch could do, when his words couldn't. Methos smiled at the sight of the hairs standing up as he tapped along the small of her back. 

"That feels good, Adam," she moaned. "This is a good way of not answering questions, huh?"

"It works every time," he whispered in her ear. The surprise of his breath at her ear made her forget about what he was doing to her crotch. His hand wasn't physically there yet, but it would be and she was waiting for it. The waiting... it's the hardest part. The man had the constitution of a tortoise. She'd always thought foreplay was getting your clothes off as quickly as possible. No, she had a lot to learn from him. Who he was and where he came from didn't matter in the least to her while his touch was all she thought about.

Methos removed his arm from her grasp and she turned her head. She couldn't see him, but the bed moved as he repositioned his weight at the end of it. Methos' rod was enormous and he was ready, but he could wait. He simply rubbed it against her inner leg. She lifted her butt as his fingers proceeded between her cheeks following the line of her crack, then back out. He spread her legs and massaged the inside of her thighs. She would scream if he stopped, or didn't take her immediately, so she buried her face in the pillow, not wanting it to end. He laid his weight between her legs spreading them farther, let his rod rub down. She lifted up, then he slipped his rod into her anus, pumped a few times. 

Elizabeth's head slammed into the pillow with each thrust. She shook her head and lifted her leg over his head and turned over. "Are you bi?"

Her motion and question took him by surprise. He repositioned himself between her legs grimacing, shook his head, "Labels..."

"I don't like it that way. It only makes my ass hurt. Come on."

"Have you ever laid with women?"

"Twice. They don't do it for me."

"Do I?"

"You certainly do know what you're doing... come on, do it." He smiled**,** laid on top of her and did.

* * *

**6:30 AM **

Methos was sitting in the fired up jacuzzi, with his hands spreading the foam that the jets created on the surface. "What's so interesting out there? Did you witness a mugging or something?"

Elizabeth stood at the window wearing a hotel robe and looking down on the city as it woke and started a new day. "I love this city. I hate to leave it."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. But Joe's back in his apartment, Amy's off on her honeymoon. I have to draw out Logan so I can take care of him once and for all."

Why did she have to bring that up so early in the morning and give him indigestion. He was with an immortal. An immortal with a death sentence. He'd lost his mind, but had enjoyed his time with her. And in a few hours, they'd both be on their separate ways. "He may kill you for good next time."

"Yeah, he might. I'm tired of being scared and alone and hunted. And, for the first time, Logan attacked twice in one year, he wants my head. I have to figure out a way to challenge him fairly for me. Haven't you ever had anyone after you?"

Choosing to ignore that, he said, "Why borrow trouble? Go somewhere he can't find you and live. Living is always the better alternative."

"But I've discovered that I'm not living. I've experienced more life with you in the last ten hours than I have in a decade." 

Methos lifted his wet arms from the pool and set them on the edge, demanding, "You can't say something like that and still stand on the other side of the room." She turned and smiled. "You wanted me to start up this thing, the least you could do is join me."

She climbed up the steps, over the edge and sat down on the other side. Methos said, "Aren't you a little over-dressed?"

She looked at the wet robe. "It's not mine. What do I care?"

He lifted his foot and hooked his big toe under the belt and pulled, moving her toward him. "You've tied quite a knot there."

"Think you'll have better luck with this one," she said rubbing up against him as she floated between his legs.

He did and opened the robe, slipping it off her shoulders. She asked him, "What can I do for you?"

"Anything you wish."

"One from column A, two from column B?"

"Sounds good," he smiled, licking at her neck. "Just stay away from the Chinese water torture. I never liked that."

She was going to pry, not knowing if that remark was from personal experience, but figured he wouldn't tell her anyway. "What do you like?"

"Anything you wish," he smiled as he wrapped his legs around her and squeezed. He didn't want to give her information about himself, his life, but giving his body to her was no problem. She asked him, "When are you going back to your apartment?"

"I'm not," he said, then buried his mouth on her neck.

"Why not?" 

"I've been in New York long enough. It time to think of a new place."

"You can come with me," she suggested.

Methos was silent. That did seem like a nice idea, but he didn't usually make himself a moving target. So he just put his hands on her chest in lieu of a response. 

Her offer was a big, uncomfortable balloon hanging out in the air... and he didn't grab it. She removed his hands and asked, "What time is check out?"

"Not for hours," he kissed her temple.

"Then what?"

"I guess we go home and pack up. We're both leaving. You don't know where you're going to go?"

"I'm open to suggestions." Again, the silent treatment. 

With Logan on her trail, it would be impossible to be around her until she took care of him, or Logan took care of her. He wasn't going to get caught in the middle, or in a hail of bullets. When he still didn't say anything, she stood up and made her way to the side of the jacuzzi.

She grabbed a towel and wiped herself off as she went into the living room to dress. Methos came out of the bathroom and said, "Where are you going? You aren't on a time table. I made special arrangements so we could have the room as long as we want today. Logan isn't going to do anything here. He may be stupid but he can't be an idiot. Do you want some breakfast?"

"No."

"What is the matter?"

"I usually don't have one night stands, and," she hiked a shoulder. "That's all this has turned out to be." She slid the dress up her body and tried to button it. "I thought there'd be a little more than that. I don't take on an immortal lightly." She got the top two buttoned, but knew the rest were goners. "Where's my coat? Oh, shit, I didn't get it last night."

He just stood there wondering how she could possibly consider leaving when he'd arranged everything for them to have a nice day together before parting company. As long as they weren't talking about how old he was or about Logan, they were perfect together. When he walked toward her, she needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Elizabeth grabbed Adam's tux jacket from the floor where they left it, slipped into it to cover the ripped dress, grabbed her purse and walked out. 

Methos stood at the door naked watching her push the elevator button. "Liz, you don't have to leave. And that's my jacket."

She pushed open the door to the stairs and was gone. He went back into the suite and shut the door. As he dressed, he went over it all in his mind. She didn't have to rush out. They had plenty of time to talk over what was going to happen. He was going to tell her where he'd end up and she could come to him when she'd fulfilled her destiny with death. Her base impulses were to run; that was something he could get his head around. But she was running from him, not who she should be. He liked how the evening progressed, how she reacted to him, how she made him feel. 

Then he came to his senses. Elizabeth Bennett was an immortal who had an immortal after her. That was two strikes against her. As he was slipping on his pants, his mind went back and forth, weighing all the options. That immortal had only one leg and could easily be taken. That was a notch on her side. He didn't know how good a fighter she was but figured she could take Logan with her eyes closed. But, she hadn't been able to in over a hundred years because Logan usually came with guns and shot first, hell he could be shot too if he was in her vicinity. Very much, three strikes, she's out.

* * *

**METHOS' APARTMENT **

Methos was being more than cautious when he crept into his building through the back emergency door, a door that he'd finagled a key to when he first moved in. The piece of paper he lodged between the door and frame was still in place. There wouldn't be some gung ho watcher inside to blind side him, wanting a head on his wall. He took his coat and silk shirt off and deposited them and the tie and cummerbund on the couch. As he walked through the apartment on the way to the shower, he took stock of what he was going to take with him on this journey that would last for a very long time. 

Methos wondered if he should sublet the apartment or keep it. He didn't want to have to worry about his stuff, put it in storage, or move it to one of the other properties he owned in several countries. Stuff. Great to have, but a big fat nuisance. After heating the water in the shower and stepping in, he weighed the options again. There were two that were upper most in his mind. A) Go on his merry way and live his life, or B) go to Elizabeth and protect her head and possibly lose his own. From a one-legged immortal. How would that look in his chronicle? 

He slammed the shampoo bottle down, breaking the shelf. His chronicle! He vigorously rubbed the shampoo into his hair all the while stewing about the watchers knowing him as Methos. Worse yet, Joe didn't tell him. Joe was one of only two people Methos considered he could absolutely trust and he let him down. The only other person he trusted, was MacLeod... did he also know and not tell him? Methos hated the fact that he suddenly felt like he couldn't trust anyone in his world. He thought he had true friends. And Joe belittled him telling him there was no threat. What did Joe know? He'd never been hunted on a day to day basis. Everyone is suspect when you're an immortal; even more when you're the oldest living immortal.

He had to make a new start, away from all things related to Adam Pierson. The first thing he needed to do was change his name. Not go anywhere near anyone Adam Pierson associated with. He should have done it years ago. But he'd be alone again. He hated making new acquaintances. Then he realized he already had one, Elizabeth Bennett was new in his life. He knew most everything about her from reading her entry on the watchers database and listening to her and Amy all week. She never once lied to him, he was sure of it. She was immortal, but she didn't go after his head while he slept. She wouldn't do that, of that he was also sure. He'd pissed her off all week and she didn't make a move to relieve his head from his shoulders. 

To start over and not have to do it completely alone... That sounded really attractive to Methos. All he had to do was get Elizabeth out of town without any watchers knowing and then make themselves scarce. The prospect of spending time with a woman again was something he hadn't considered since Alexa. There had been times with her, when they had to make themselves scarce, when immortals invaded their space. Alexa didn't understand the reasons for leaving so abruptly, but she followed where he led. If it happened when he was with Elizabeth, she'd understand. And she could fight herself. And, if he did this right, she would fight to defend him.

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S APARTMENT BUILDING **

Duncan and Amanda emerged from the building just as Elizabeth showed up. Amanda seemed to be more vibrant than she'd ever seen her and she asked, "How are you feeling this morning?"

Amanda shrugged and smiled, "Better than I have in a long time. Duncan told me how you helped me last night. Thanks." Amanda took note of the matron of honor dress underneath the tuxedo jacket that Methos had worn. She looked around for the man who rented it.

Duncan said, "What did happen last night, Amanda?"

Amanda said, "I have no idea. I've been feeling run down, sleepy for a while. For about the last week. Since we got here as a matter of fact. I'm not suddenly allergic to New York City, am I?"

"That can't be," Elizabeth said. "This is the greatest city on earth. It wouldn't have had anything to do with Logan, would it?"

"I wouldn't think so," Duncan dismissed that thought. "Was he at the wedding?"

Amanda countered, "But I started feeling crappy before we met. It couldn't be Logan. Just a flu thing? What is the flu? I've never been sick before."

Elizabeth laughed, "And I didn't think you could be. Are you sure you don't have an enemy somewhere? Were you poisoned or something?"

"We can't be poisoned," Duncan stated.

"I really think there's something to that, Mac," Amanda said. "And it's not from an enemy of mine, or Liz's and certainly not from Joe, Amy or Kevin. It has to be from you or ..." she caught herself in front of Elizabeth. "Adam."

With the mention of Adam's name, Elizabeth was ready to split. "Well, I should get inside."

"We should be going too," Duncan said. 

Amanda said, "Yeah, Duncan has a 'special out of the way' place he insists on taking me."

"It was really nice to meet you both," Elizabeth said. "And I'm sorry I screwed up your trip to New York."

"It wasn't your fault," Duncan pulled her into a hug. "You take care of yourself."

"I'll try," Elizabeth sighed.

"Where's Adam," Amanda asked. 

"You got me." Elizabeth certainly didn't want to talk about it, thought that they'd know soon enough. She would truly miss them, all of them. "I know it's an expression that's overused and never followed up on, but 'let's keep in touch'. Okay?"

Duncan squeezed her shoulder, "You can count on it. You know where I live and my phone numbers. Let us know where you end up. And good luck with Logan."

"Thank you so much. And I'm so sorry for what happened to Joe. Thank God you all showed up."

"Don't mention it," Duncan said, looking again at the tuxedo jacket. "Where _is_ Adam?"

Elizabeth looked away, not knowing what to say and noticed a woman with short black hair across the street staring at them, too far away for her buzz to be felt. She pointed her out and asked, "Do you know her?"

Duncan and Amanda turned to see no one. "Who?"

"There was a woman there. She just took off when I pointed her out. I think that was her we saw watching you leave the hotel last night."

Amanda was ready to run down the stairs after her, but Duncan held her back. Amanda got her arm free, "That bitch had me poisoned!"

"We don't know who that bitch is," Duncan said, making sure Amanda didn't rush off and lose her head. She didn't even have her sword with her, telling Duncan earlier that his would be fine for both of them.

The woman in question ducked around the corner and pulled her long fingers through her short black hair seething that the woman hadn't died. She had wondered**,** when it took so long for her to react to the first injection of poison, but didn't know she was immortal until that morning. Well, she'd have get rid of her the old fashioned way. 

* * *

**LATER **

Methos, carrying clothes wrapped on a hanger and covered with a plastic bag, picked his way into Elizabeth's building. In her hallway, he found that her door was locked. MacLeod had obviously left as there was no tell-tale sense of buzzes anywhere. He jimmied the lock on Elizabeth's door and took inventory of the apartment. After hanging her coat in the closet, he didn't see a sword in sight. There wasn't one in her coat. How could she go out of the apartment without her sword last night? Because Logan would shoot her first and she didn't see the purpose? Or because she knew there would be other immortals there to lend her one if she did come up against him? Or she didn't think Logan would try anything at the hotel? Still, she should carry a sword, what kind of immortal was she?

There was an empty space in her clothes closet and what he figured was her underwear drawer was sparse. There were no suitcases in the entire apartment. She'd already left. His tuxedo jacket wasn't there, either. Wondering if she pitched it, or returned it, he didn't know. It would be a reflection of the character of the woman to see what she did with it. He called the rental place and asked if his jacket had been returned. The guy laughed at the coincidence, "Yeah, she just left."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No. Just dropped off the jacket and paid the cleaning charge to get the lipstick off the shoulder. You must have had a good night, buddy. When are you going to return the rest of it?"

"I'm on my way over."

* * *

**LATER**

When he dropped off the tux, Methos didn't get anymore from the guy behind the counter. He did like the fact that Elizabeth had returned the jacket he was responsible for, and wondered if she would have said goodbye to anyone. He didn't know any of her friends but Amy and some ex-husband. It didn't sound like she'd have anything more to do with him. Joe could be a possibility. Then wondering how Joe got home last night he called him on his cell phone and asked. "Caroline drove me," Joe explained, his voice was light, happy. "She just left for her place." 

"Ah, is she coming back?"

"Of course."

"You got shot five days ago and you were able?" Methos chuckled, maybe MacLeod was right and there was hidden strength in that man.

"No, we talked."

Methos acknowledged that he had a better night than Joe, but had to concede that Joe's morning was much better than his. "Have you seen or heard from Liz?"

"I did," Joe said. "She was here earlier. She made me some soup. How did it go last night? She really didn't have much to say about it."

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah... I guess it didn't go well."

Methos, with the cell phone at his ear, turned the corner and almost crashed into an large man with a shotgun on his shoulder. His nose was even with gun's barrel. Methos ducked and the man turned at the same time. "Watch it!" the man said.

Methos took stock of the situation. A brink's truck was unloading a deposit to the bank and the man with the gun was a security guard. And he was looking at Methos intently. Methos smiled and put up his hand, "Sorry."

"Watch where you're going."

Joe's voice could be heard on the phone, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Methos mumbled and waited as the load of cash bags on a dolly crossed in front of him. 

"Well? What happened with Liz?"

Methos made his way down the sidewalk. "Last night was fine, this morning didn't go so hot."

"She said she was leaving town and wanted to say goodbye and check on my wound again."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"The airport."

"Which airport?"

"I don't know."

"Where was she flying to?"

"Colorado."

That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. There was only one reason she would be going to Colorado. Didn't she have a self-preservation bone in her body? "I'm off too, Joe."

"Adam, you don't have to go anywhere."

"Yes, I do. I have to find someone."

"Who? An immortal?" Joe wondered what happened, who was after him so bad Methos decided to take him out, actually challenge.

"Yes," Methos said. "Long chestnut hair. Pert nose. There's a one legged guy after her. Talk me out of it, please."

Joe laughed, "Not me buddy. I've known her for three years. When she's in a relationship, she treats them like kings. Just sit back and enjoy it. She'll only try to make you happy."

That wasn't what Methos wanted to hear.

* * *

**LAGUARDIA **

Methos walked into the terminal and looked at the departure board. A flight to Denver would leave in forty minutes. The next was in three hours. They were probably already boarding, so he ran to the gate. 

Elizabeth sat leafing through a Newsweek. Pre-boarding was happening, she shoved her stuff out of the way when a man in a wheelchair, pushed by his wife, came by her on their way to the ticket agent. She felt a buzz. Logan! How did he have the balls to come after her there! An airport! An airport was unofficial holy ground for immortals. They all knew that! Standing, she looked over the people in the area, ready to take off for the nearest exit. Then saw Adam leaning against a pole, smiling in a most arrogant way. "What are you doing here? You scared me half to death!"

Her reaction and tone of voice startled the other waiting passengers. Methos walked to her and took her arm. After snatching her bag from the floor, he lead her away. They hurried, then ran to the parking lot. Methos looked behind them the whole way to see if anyone was following. All the way, Elizabeth asked what he was doing. He only ran faster, pulling her behind him. 

When they got out of the stairwell, into the bottom floor of the parking ramp, Methos positioned Elizabeth against a wall, in front of a car. "Stay there," he said, then moved swiftly back to the stairwell. When the door opened, Darrell walked out, looking over the lot in front of him. He didn't see the fist slam into his cheek, just fell limp to the concrete. 

When Elizabeth got to Adam her mouth was hanging open and she was motioning at her watcher, Methos said, "I thought I asked you to stay over there."

"No, you told me."

He took her bag and her hand and walked, "That should give us some time."

Elizabeth asked, looking back at Darrell. "What did you do that for?"

"I don't want this chronicled."

"Can you do that?" She sure had the urge to the other day.

"I just did," Methos stated as he took her hand and led her out of the lot before anyone came.

"Well, what if you killed him?"

"I didn't kill him." They exited the lot and walked to the cab line. "So, you're going to Colorado." He leaned close and whispered, "If you want to meet up with Logan, why not stick your neck out right here?"

"I'm going to miss my plane."

"You already have. Come on." He moved up the line when a couple got into the cab.

"Why?" She jerked her arm back.

"Would you settle down? I just want to pack up some stuff at my place and I'll go with you. But not to Colorado."

"Why?"

"Because you want me to."

"Just like that?"

"Oh, that answer wasn't good enough? Okay, because I want to."

"What makes you think I want to travel with you? I don't know the first thing about you."

Methos put her and her bag in a cab and got in. "15 North Moore Street," he said to the cabbie.

Elizabeth asked, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Methos whispered to her, "I'm going to save your head. Is that all right? I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth if I were you. In fact, keep talking. I'll change my mind. This is insane."

With Adam's agitation showing, Elizabeth knew to keep quiet.

* * *

**METHOS' APARTMENT **

While Methos packed up what he wanted to bring, such as clothes, his sword, research notes for the textbook and his laptop, Elizabeth looked around the apartment. There was no sign of traps for all the critters Adam said roamed the place. No tenting over the furniture. No sign of a recent fumigation. What the hell was he trying to pull? Did he had someone after him, too? That's all she needed. 

Then she really looked at his art, statues, the exotic simplicity of the architecture and furnishings didn't seem to be piecemeal or thoughtlessly bought. They seemed personal. When he came into the living room, she once again asked, "How old are you?"

He already had it figured out. Older than Duncan, but not as old as Amanda, not a trophy head that immortals over 1000 were apt to be. "800," he decided to tell her, picking a number out of the air.

She was surprised he told her something, without hesitation. It came too easy. She wondered whether or not to believe him. Too bad she did. "800? That makes the 13th century when you were born... You'd know first hand about..." her head spun. She picked the first thing she thought of. "Columbus discovering America."

"That was Amerigo Vespusi," he quickly said finding a notebook on the desk that he needed.

"I know that. But, how did that all play out?"

"Columbus had the big bucks behind him," he plopped his backpack on the desk and put the notebook in it. "Actually, the Native Americans were here first."

"I am a history professor, Adam."

"Then why did you ask?"

"For the personal angle. I know that's a hard concept for you to grasp."

"How do you know?" He punched some bills that he hadn't paid yet into his backpack and was highly offended by that remark, "You know, you've been beating me up verbally ever since I met you. Why?"

"Why? You looked at me with disgust at the beginning, then you blamed me for everything, then you came on to me, then you figured I'd swoon and stay even though there was no point, then you as much as tell me I'm on my own if I take care of Logan. Then you come like a white knight and carry me back here? Why I'm standing here is beyond me."

Methos zipped the backpack and walked to her. "I never looked at you with disgust. I did blame you for Joe and I did want to spend the night and today with you. I don't think you should go after Logan."

"I know why I'm leaving. Why are you?"

"I need a change of scenery."

"More lies," she grumbled.

"Don't you get wanderlust? Haven't you ever felt the need to just get away and start over? Have you ever just gotten bored with your surroundings?" She had to agree she had and nodded. "I've got it big time. Where are you going?"

"I called Wentworth's cell this morning. Logan went back to Colorado last Thursday. So, I'm going to surprise him."

"Do you really think that would be a surprise? He wouldn't be expecting you?"

"Why would he? I've never gone after him before."

"Then why do it now? Why borrow trouble? I've made it possible for us to leave without anyone, including your watcher, knowing where we went. Let's just go. Live."

Elizabeth stared at Adam, he held her arms. This was a different man from the one who didn't want to talk about plans or travel itineraries just hours ago. "You really surprise me."

He liked that. "In what way?"

"This morning, you didn't want anything to do with me, except have sex, and now, you're willing to 'take me away from all this'? Why?"

"I like you. We're friends. Aren't we? Looks like you could use a friend. I know I could."

"Friends?"

"Yes."

"Just friends?"

"Well, friends with an added bonus. But friends first. You have to admit, it sounds good."

"But Logan is still out there."

"But he'll have no idea where you are. He'll never find you because we're going to disappear. Together. That's what I'm offering. I don't take off with immortals... ever, so you better take me up on it. What do you say? France? Spain? China? Chile?"

"My passport expired."

He dropped her arms and just looked at her. Could he have misread everything? Made assumptions that she didn't want to have any part of? "You... do want to go with me... don't you? Or am I wasting my time?"

She felt giddy with the turn of events finally believing that he would go away with her. Why he didn't suggest it when she wanted him to was beyond her, but the disappointment and the tinge of anger passed. "That's what I wanted this morning. But you didn't. Why not? What's so scary about me? Logan? If you're right and we leave together so Logan can't find us... why were you scared to answer me this morning?"

"I wasn't scared. But you're immortal."

"So you think I want your head."

"No. It's a lot of work. Other immortals don't find a problem with it, but I can't help but see problems before they happen."

"The only immortal after me is Logan. How many are after you?"

"You collect more and more as the years go on. The trick is to stay one step ahead of them. We can discuss this later. Foley seems like an idiot, but... why test fate? If you're leaving with me, we're leaving now before he can figure out where we are."

She smiled, the world was her oyster, where would they go? "Plane, train or bus?"

"Car. No trace that we left town. We'll switch rentals in Hartford, under another name. I have old ID on me. Then we'll purchase new ID. New names. Then... leave... **for **anywhere we want."

* * *

**PHILADELPHIA **

Methos drove them straight to an old acquaintance of his who specialized in creative identification. Honcho Miller was in his workshop on Federal Street working on drivers licenses for two underage guys that Elizabeth wasn't comfortable being within such close confines with. One of them had a tattoo on his shoulder that read, 'Satan's Son' with a Gothic font. She whispered to Methos, "Why are we here again?"

"Honcho does fantastic work," Methos said enthusiastically, looking at the flawless examples of Honcho's work on the walls. Drivers licenses, birth certificates, Social Security cards, passports, student IDs. You name it, Honcho could do it, from any state in the Union, even for some other countries. "You need a passport. We both need new identities."

"Both of us?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she said, though not quite understanding why. "Why do you need that?"

Honcho saw Methos and said, "Adam! Haven't seen you in a long time. Or, you are still Adam, right?"

Methos smiled and shook his hand. "It's David Sommers now."

"Birth date?"

"What's today? The 10th? Let's go with that. We'll also need a passport and drivers license for Ms. Bennett here." Elizabeth had never possessed a driver's license. Used NYU faculty ID when she needed identification and only had a couple of instances where it proved to be a problem. Methos asked her, "What name did you decide on?"

"I really didn't think about it."

Honcho looked at her, "How about Mary Anderson?"

"Why?" Elizabeth looked at herself. "Do I look like a Mary? 

"No," Honcho leered, "But the name's forgettable. Isn't that what you want?" Methos nodded and smiled. You're always in good hands with Honcho. "Step over to the studio, Ms. Anderson, and I'll get you all fixed up."

The 'studio' consisted of a stool in front of a white sheet hung up on the wall. While he took her picture for the ID, Methos told Honcho, "We'll also need work Visas for Spain."

Honcho took the picture and laughed, "You do know how to keep me hopping, Adam."

"David." Methos corrected him.

"You will be in a minute."

Methos had him on speed dial in case something came up that he needed the paperwork for. Honcho looked at Elizabeth on the stool in front of the white sheet. "Hold it," he said with his hand out to stop her. "She should have a different shirt on for the drivers license. It would look pretty funny if you're wearing the same collar in both the passport and license pictures." He took off his t-shirt and handed it to her. "You can just go behind the sheet to change and can you change your hair a little?"

Elizabeth tried not to look at the tattoos on Honcho but wondered where his T-shirt had been, still she smiled and said, "Thanks," disappearing behind the curtain.

Honcho put a different camera on the tripod and said, "Spain, huh?" Methos nodded. "Madrid?" 

"Where else would you live in Spain?"

"That's where the Prado museum is, right?" When Methos nodded, Honcho laughed. "I'm not going to find out you're an international art thief, am I?"

"No," Methos shook his head, laughed. "Not anymore."

Elizabeth came back wearing the t-shirt and sat on the stool again. Posed. Honcho told her to hold down the smile, this is for a drivers license. "How does Maryland sound?"

"Sure," Elizabeth didn't know. A fake was a fake was a fake. What did it matter ? She certainly wasn't going to drive anyway.

* * *

**CAR **

In the car while Methos was driving, and they were singing along to the Who's "Pinball Wizard" a commercial came on for Choc Full of Nuts candy bar, 'the candy for the new millennium'. Elizabeth groaned and changed the station.

"Hey," Methos said. "That was the best station we've found so far."

"I'm so sick and tired of people thinking the new millennium is already here. It doesn't happen for another 3 months. Can't people add? There are 1000 years in a millennium, not 999 and there was no year zero. Aren't you tired of it? Or are you one of them?"

Methos smiled. He'd seen the turn of 4 millenniums and every single time people made the same mistake. "People like round numbers."

"Y2K I could understand. That had to do with computers and digits still, people were idiots last December."

"We'll be sure to toast the true new millennium."

"Really?"

"On December 31, 2000. You got a date."

She couldn't get used to the fact that he wasn't going to take off on her. This was all still a dream she was enjoying. And he was immortal. The only other immortal she ever trusted screwed her, turned her over to Logan. When she was quiet, Methos asked, "You're thinking of taking off on me?"

"You wish."

He laughed, "Why?"

"So you wouldn't be the bad guy in the breakup of our relationship."

"I wouldn't be sitting here with you if I didn't want to be . I didn't have to go to the airport if I didn't want to."

"I know. But now you're in it and maybe you're having second thoughts."

"No. Are you?"

"Of course not. You're the best thing that's happened to me in years."

"And don't you forget it."

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Chapter Six - What's in a Name 

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	6. What's In a Name?

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES**  
**CHAPTER SIX**

**WHAT'S IN A NAME?**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING**: ADULT If you're under the age of consent, please push the back button. 

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A OFC Elizabeth Bennett, Antonio and Sofia

**SUMMARY**: Methos and Elizabeth set up in Sintra, Portugal, the city of Byron

* * *

**OCTOBER 2000**

After going to Spain and enjoying the nightlife in Madrid for a month while searching for a place, Methos suggested to Elizabeth that they take a road trip. His old friend, Lord Byron, had lived in a quaint little town, that was established on holy ground, Sintra in the neighboring country of Portugal. Sintra was holy Ground due to its religious history. The earliest recordings stated that the surrounding mountain had been called "Mountain of the Moon" by the Romans and was used to worship the Sun and the Moon, a practice that ended with the occupation of the Moors. When Afonso Henriques, the would-be king of independent Portugal, conquered Sintra, a monastery was built continuing its religious context.

In the rental car, while Methos again drove, Elizabeth asked, "You knew Lord Byron?" Methos only nodded and smiled.

"**_The_**__ Lord Byron?"

"Was there another?"

"Well, there was that drugged out rock star that tried to pass himself off as a descendent of his."

"That was **_the_**__ Lord Byron."

"No shit?" Elizabeth stared at him as he nonchalantly drove down the windy roads, not knowing if she should believe him. He'd told her some pretty far out things, but to her mind, they had been true. "Byron, **_the_**__ Lord Byron, was an immortal?"

"Yes."

She just couldn't digest it. "I thought you weren't friends with immortals, yet there's Duncan, Amanda, me. Now I find out there was Byron, who else has there been?"

"A few."

"How chummy were you with Lord Byron?"

"Chummy," was all he'd say clamming up as if he was talking about a former girlfriend or wife.

"Is that why we're on the way to 'his' city?"

"No. It's safe for immortals. Holy Ground. Why? Are you jealous?"

"He's dead, as far as I know."

Methos lost all joviality. "Yeah, he's dead. He lost his head, and that's not a metaphor." His eyes took on a dark quality. The ravages of anger and disappointment not dealt with rumbled through him.

"Did you see it happen?"

"No, I just knew it was coming. And it did."

"How? Did he come up against some ass hole immortal?"

"He was judged and executed by Duncan MacLeod**,** of the clan MacLeod."

"Duncan? Why would Duncan take Lord Byron's head? Judged for what?"

"That's something I don't like to think about, let alone talk about."

Sintra, Portugal was located in the mountains just east of the coast and northwest of Lisbon. It was a quaint city, built around a former monastery, now a Romantic colored palace, with a lush green park surrounding it creating a green wall that seemed as impenetrable as the stone walls of a castle. It also had very steep narrow streets. Methos and Elizabeth walked up and down looking at everything, doing a little shopping, looking at the palaces built up through the Ages. Some sadly abandoned, others smartly turned into museums with rich gardens, all of them intelligently bonding with nature that seemed to wrap these estates with their greenness. 

There were a lot of tourists as it was just the tail end of hiking season. Their walks extended outside the heart of the town as they kept walking along the roads leading out of Sintra. They walked for a while following the shoulder of the road that took them through masses of greenery and big estates. Elizabeth got tired and had a tough time keeping up with David. "How do you keep yourself in shape?"

Methos didn't even seem winded as he shrugged, "Good genes, I guess."

"Well, I can't go any further." She plunked herself down on a milestone to catch her breath and let the muscles in the back of her legs rest and loosen. People walked past, going about their day, looking over the sights. Elizabeth noticed that his mind was elsewhere, as he stared off in the distance. When he lightly shoved her to the side to join her on the small space the milestone provided she commented, "Byron, I presume?"

"Hm?"

"Are you reliving your time with Byron?"

"No, I was looking at the Palace." He pointed to the steeple atop Monserrate Palace. It's steeple poked through the trees. Made of finely chiseled marble, it was a beauty. "You've had a lot of history here?"

"A bit."

"Do you like the area, are you comfortable here?"

"I always have been. The whole place is holy ground."

"Well, why are we thinking of moving to Spain? Why not here?"

"You speak Spanish."

"Don't they speak Spanish here?"

A couple walking by heard and were ticked, walked on. Methos said, "No. They speak Portuguese. Don't say such a thing here. I thought you were a history professor and you didn't know that?"

"How often do I get to Portugal? I didn't know. Is it an easy language to learn?"

"Eu ensino-te. That means 'I'll teach you'."

"You've got yourself a deal," she smiled. Looked at Monserate Palace, and the houses and trees on the slope of the Sintra mountain. "Let's live here. There's people around, but its quiet, peaceful, beautiful. I'm tired of living out of a suitcase."

"I am too. You wouldn't mind moving to someplace you've never been?"

"Do I have a reason to? Byron's memory perhaps?"

"You're more focused on that than I am."

"When I agreed to take off with you, it didn't matter where we ended up. I just want to end up somewhere and I like it here."

* * *

**CASA SEGURA**

On the outskirts of town up on the mountain, in the middle of dense woods, at the end of the public road, they found an older family house for sale. Situated between Lisbon and Sintra it came complete with a view from the overlook in the back yard to a couple of old buildings that were falling apart but they had ideas for them. The previous owners had christened the house with a name that meant 'Safe House'. The good karma wasn't lost on either of them.

The quinta in the mountains was scrutinized by Methos when they were shown it by the realtor, but Elizabeth saw nothing but it's possibilities. A little work here and there and that place could be a castle. The realtor told them that it was built in 1890. Methos cringed, there was a lot of rain that year, he hoped the foundation was solid. Foundation, foundation, foundation.... he'd learned his lesson well when he designed a certain tower in Italy and would never make the same mistake again.

But, Casa Segura looked solid to his eye. The older couple who had raised their children there, before they left for their own retirement years, said they'd never had a structural problem with it. The reaction on Elizabeth's face as she discovered each new feature the house offered made Methos snap it up. Elizabeth insisted on paying for half of the house, even though Methos didn't try to get the price down from the realtor. He obviously didn't care how much it cost, much to Elizabeth's chagrin. 

Adam Pierson had begun using the name David Sommers. When Adam slipped out, he'd remind her of his name, it took her a while to get used to it. Elizabeth had gone back to her own name, she didn't feel like a Mary Anderson, let alone look like one. David did like calling her Mary for some reason. She had started to miss him. He'd been gone for three days and promised he'd be back on Monday. Well, it was Tuesday and there hadn't been any word from him. He said he was going to Cairo to get information from the archives to complete his textbook on Ancient Egypt and told her that she should stay and get moved into the house. Except there wasn't much to do, besides unpack what was in their suitcases.

So, while waiting for David, she went shopping. Her legs had gotten used to the up and down climbing and descending from the landscape. She made it a habit to walk into town at least once a day; to keep her mind from going numb waiting at home, and to find treasures to fill the house with. After walking the miles into town and walking and shopping, she always made sure she made a purchase, a big one, so she could get a lift back home from a happy store owner. The first big ticket item she bought was bedroom furniture, the complete suite. As soon as it was delivered, she hoped David would like it.

There was another reason she couldn't wait for David to get back, he was the chef. While growing up in Gettysburg, her mother tried to teach her how to cook. It didn't work. She couldn't make a meal if her life depended on it, except for a simple delicious recipe she found for stroganoff, she didn't cook. After marrying Teddy at the age of 18, she went from her parents house to the Lion's Eye Tavern and they had cooks. All her life, she either ate beans from a can heated up over a fire, mooched from someone else, or ate in restaurants. That was one of the reasons she liked the big cities. There were more chances to come up against immortals, but the food supply was endless. 

There on the outskirts of Sintra, there were no takeouts, no pizza, no Chinese, no frozen dinners in the market to just heat up in the stove or microwave, no nothing. One can eat only so much stroganoff without itbecoming sickening just to look at the leftovers in the fridge. David was going to have to get home soon, or she would be forced to her last resort, trying to cook for herself. Maybe he could teach her to cook along with the Portuguese lessons.

They'd have to have a major shopping expedition to outfit that kitchen, the living room, the study David had taken over, the rest of the house. She was worried about the cost of everything. She had never been much of a hoarder when it came to money, only maintaining a comfort zone. She had a good paycheck from NYU and didn't have to think about dipping into her savings until she took on another mortgage. They'd have to furnish the house from scratch; the only furniture that came with it were the courtyard table and chairs. 

Elizabeth needed to get out. She decided to go for a walk in the woods. She'd just reached the trail that made it's way through the thick trees, when she heard a car on the seldom traveled road. The only cars that went by belonged to the people who lived up the hill, where the road was a dead end, or tourists who were lost. Elizabeth went back to the trail's end to see which of the usual vehicles , the bright orange car, the red pickup or the dark green car, were on the road that day. The car pulled into their drive and stopped. She ran out of the woods to see David climb out of the driver's seat of an old black station wagon, then felt his buzz as she ran toward him. 

Methos turned at the sense of the buzz and leaned against the car waiting for Elizabeth to get to him. "Where were you?"

Elizabeth jumped into his arms, kissed him in welcome, then admonished him, "Where was I? Where the **_hell_**__ have you been?"

"That's some welcome," he scowled, then grabbed her into a real kiss, sweeping her around in a circle. 

"Egypt isn't that far away and you said you'd be back yesterday."

"I got detained, sorry," he said. "Help me get this stuff inside before it rains."

"Who's is this?" she motioned to the old car.

"It's mine," Methos told her, not telling her that he purchased it under the name of Matthew Benjamin. She didn't need to know everything.

"You bought an old car? I thought you only liked to rent."

"This will get us to and from town."

"What's all this," she asked as she peered into the back windows at the boxes. 

"Literature for my research," was all he said. He opened the back and put a box in her arms. A very heavy box. As she lifted it off the tail gate, he said, "Careful with that, Mary."

When Elizabeth set the next to the last heavy box ontop of another on the floor of the great room of the house, it slipped and fell to the floor. The cover of the box opened and three batches of pages that were looped with thin strands of twine on the edge like a binder toppled out. "No wonder that was so heavy," she muttered, to the box that contained just paper. She stooped over to gather them up and put them back into the box, she had no intention of looking at or scrutinizing them, just wanted to put them back in the box. But when she actually got her hands on them, they looked incredibly old. From the lettering David had scribbled on the box, they were 'RESEARCH'. She opened the cover of one of the 'books'. It was written in a language she didn't recognize, the ink used was faded and she could barely make out the pattern of the 'letters'. 

Methos walked in with his dufflebag and another box and almost dropped them both on his foot when he saw what she was reading. "Put that **_down_**__!"

His booming voice made her jump and the journal flew out of her hands. "What?! You scared the hell out of me."

He didn't hear her, quickly gathering the pages that came free off the floor and patting them back into book form. "You're looking through my stuff now?"

"Not really," she said. "They fell out of the box."

"Fell out?" Methos replied with an accusatory lift of his eyebrow.

"I was just looking as I put it back together." Elizabeth said, holding what was left of the 'book' in her hands. Methos grabbed it and stacked them neatly in the top box. "What is it? Where did you get those?"

"I...," he put the weight of his body atop the box to make sure the top was secure, then looked at her, and realized she wasn't 'snooping'.

She kept on, "What language is that? A library let something as precious as that off the premises? They're obviously old."

Methos collected his thoughts. "Yes, I've borrowed things from them before. They know they can trust me."

"It's about Egypt, for your textbook?" Elizabeth smiled as she kept prodding**;** she didn't believe him. There was another 'book' on the floor by the fireplace. She picked it up and had to fight the urge to leaf through it. She just handed it to him. "I don't know what language that's written in, but it's not hieroglyphics."

"It's..." he opened the top sheet and looked at the Sumerian writing he himself produced 3500 years before, about Greece. It was the last thing he wrote before turning into a monster. It was only then that he realized he may have gotten the wrong boxes out of his storage garage in France. "Yes, it's about Egypt," he lied. "And I have to be very careful with it. You can't put fingerprints on them. It's not even paper, it's papyrus. It'll be my ass if they get smudged. They're irreplaceable." 

"I'm sorry. They should be hermetically sealed. The pages came out when you scared me."

"Well... library property," he decided to tell her as an excuse for his concern.

"You're just going to drop them in the mail when you're done?"

"No, I'll have to make the trip myself to return them." Only the trip would be back to his storage facility in Paris, not to the Cairo Archives, where he told her they were from. Then he scanned some of the pages, read them, Elizabeth was right, he should have sealed them more properly. The plastic tarps that were wrapped around them didn't do as good a job as he thought they would. And damn! These might be the wrong batch! 

She wondered why he was so touchy about his stuff, weren't they living together? Hadn't they spent the last blissful month together in every way? Mitch, her fourth husband, was territorial. She guessed some men were and would make a point of not messing with his stuff again. Since Adam had become David Sommers he carried a much fresher mood, she wasn't looking forward to a return visit of the suspicious Adam she met first.

That evening, Methos set the last of the boxes in the study and took his new cell phone out of his pocket. He did a little time zone figuring in his head and entered Joe's apartment number. He should be at home and awake. Methos may still be a little hurt by Joe's lack of honesty, but he missed him. He hadn't talked to one of his two his best friends in the world for over a month. When Joe answered, Methos told him he was settled and could be reached at that number until they got a phone hooked up.

Joe assumed, "New apartment?"

"A house."

"House?" Joe let his low, grumble-like giggle flow. "Since when do you own a house?"

"I own houses."

"Where are you?"

"Sintra," was all Methos would say over a cell phone line. 

"Where the hell is that?"

"Look it up. How are you feeling?"

"Good as new, Adam."

"Oh, it's David," Methos corrected him. 

"Okay," Joe said, shaking his head. 

"Are you just saying that or are you really feeling better? How are you getting around?"

"With my own two legs, David. I'm doing really well. I had dinner with Amy and Kevin last week. Caroline's weakening."

Methos looked out on the great room to see what Elizabeth was up to. She was making a racket. "What does that mean?"

"She's thinking about moving in, or me moving into her place. Hell, we might even get a new place of our own. That's the only thing left to work out."

"You old dog," Methos laughed. "Good for you."

"What are you up to?"

"I'm laying low."

Joe asked, "By yourself?"

"No," Methos smiled at the sight of Elizabeth's bent over frame as she tried to start a fire in the fireplace. "There's a chick here with me. Tell Amy we're fine, I know Liz has been trying to get a hold of her. Did they move?"

"Yeah," Joe muttered. "She wanted to stay by me, keep an eye on me like I'm an invalid. There was a death in my building so Amy and Kevin took that apartment."

"What? How?" Methos sat straight up, wondering if it was Logan or his men.

Joe was sorry about how that came out. "Lyle Crocket on the fifth floor had a heart attack while watching a Giants game. Who can blame him? That team can kill the hopes of almost anybody. Lyle was over 90 years old, can you believe that? He lived on his own 'til the very end. Boy, that guy had stories."

"I'd imagine," Methos offered, but didn't really think 90 years was much to get excited about.

Joe announced, "Ah, I have to go. Caroline's here."

"Oh, okay. Have fun."

Joe paused even though it seemed like he needed to hang up. Methos wondered why and asked. Joe finally confided, "I talked to Blair about watching his laptop."

"Why the hell did you do that?!"

"I thought you would have wanted me to," Joe's voice rose in pitch along with Methos'. "You were so concerned about it you skipped town."

"But you don't have to bring it up!"

With the sudden increase in the volume of Methos' voice, Elizabeth turned towards the study where he was to figure out what was wrong. Methos noticed and shut the door. "Wouldn't that make him a little more than suspicious?"

Joe continued, "He doesn't know it's anything to do with you. We were in the middle of conversation and I said to be careful with Watcher Database, that's all. Jeez, I thought you'd be happy about it."

"Don't do me any favors," Methos seethed, then was sorry for the outburst. He knew Joe was covert. Boy, did he know.

Joe snapped, "I **_won't_**__!" and was ready to hang up.

Methos said**,** in a soothing voice, "I'm sorry... thanks."

"For what?"

"Being a friend. Thank you."

That wasn't an everyday occurrence and Joe was grateful for the sentiment. "Okay then," was all he said. "I gotta go. Thanks for calling. Do it more often, so we don't just fight and hang up."

"Will do when we get a real phone."

Joe paused, "You're calling me on a cell?"

"Yeah."

"You should have told me," Joe clipped. "We'll talk later.

* * *

**OCTOBER 17, 2000 **

Elizabeth sat on the porch with the newspaper and a cup of coffee, trying to make out the classifieds, then decided against it. David hadn't taught her how to read Portuguese, just some simple phrases. She'd had an interview with one school already, but they didn't need anyone to teach the American Civil War. Her knowledge of Portuguese history was about as good as any of her prospective students would be, and just a little bit better than her Portuguese. She'd have to figure out something else. She could go back to bartending, maybe buy a bar. She was successful with that. But David wasn't thrilled with the idea. What if she needed to take off in a hurry?

She had nursing experience but not an actual license, and wondered if Honcho could forge something for her. Then the thought of nursing turned her stomach, it was a skill she only used during horror, war. She wanted something pleasant. There had to be something.

Even though Elizabeth was going through a crisis trying to decide what to do, Methos was having the time of his life. He took a small jaunt into town with the station wagon and saw a ravishing beauty across the street. Elegant. Sweet. Fast. Red. He had to get inside her. Have her. When he walked into the dealership and asked to take a spin in the 1969 Bizzarrini Europa sports car, the salesman was only too happy to oblige. Methos knew it was absurd, but he bought it on the spot and left the station wagon at the lot. 

As he drove his new toy back to the house, he replayed the last month in his mind. He'd been in New York to be close to Joe who was in New York to be close to Amy after Laura's death. Adam Pierson was an unassuming researcher for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, working on the side on a textbook, who took to walking or riding the subway. Life was uneventful. Then Joe got shot. 

Now he was driving a sports car in Sintra on his way home to his immortal woman. Home. They could make Casa Segura into a home, not just a place to keep his stuff. Not a place to lay his head at night. It was a home. He loved the bedroom set she picked out for them, he couldn't wait to see what Elizabeth thought of his off the cuff purchase. The Bizzarini's upholstery was worn, but still in good condition. The chrome sparkled. The driver's seat fit his butt, back and the length of his legs perfectly. The radio still had an eight track, and Methos looked at it with pained nostalgia. That would certainly be changed.

Elizabeth was just going to go inside to refill her coffee and rethink this whole 'start over in a foreign country' concept when a little red car came barreling up the road and came to a screeching halt by the gate in the fence. Gravel swirled in the air. She froze for a moment indecisive about it, she didn't expect company, didn't know the car, but felt the buzz. 

The top on the car was down and when the dust settled, she saw David's beaming face. He climbed out of the car and walked through the gate and said with a bubbling giggle in his voice, "I found it. I found the perfect vehicle. Come, my lady," he said as he swept his arm towards the open door. 

With trepidation, she walked toward him. "What was wrong with the station wagon?"

"Do you know what it's like to control over 400 horsepower under you?"

"No, only one."

"You have a lot to catch up on, then. Come," he deposited her in the passenger seat and off they went. She didn't like that it was a stick-shift. She hadn't been in a non-automatic car for years, 54 years to be specific. That's why she always lived in big cities. Easy public transportation.

He asked if she wanted to take the wheel. "No, I don't drive."

"Come on," he laughed. "Everybody drives."

"You didn't notice I never offered to drive?"

"I like driving so it didn't seem a big thing." His joy with the car softened when he had a thought, "How are we going to get the wagon home?"

He shifted up and the engine revved, making her scared. "Slow down!" That only made him make a sudden turn onto a gravel road. His speed didn't slow as he went over the hills and pits. She was sure he would lose control, and panicked. "Jesus Christ! **_Stop_**__! I mean it!"

Methos screeched to a stop and she bolted out of that car. Pacing in the grass on the side of the road with the still swirling gravel in the air, she worked to control the panic attack. Methos climbed out of the car and put his hand on her back as she was hunched over, ready to throw up.

He said. "What in the world..." She got down on her knees to steady herself, slapped his hand away. Methos was completely at a loss. "Did you see how it takes curves? I love cars."

"I don't. Where are we?"

"I don't know." He noted her fright and said, "I'll bring you home. I'll get one of the guys at the car lot to drive the wagon back."

"I'll walk," Elizabeth grumbled and started off toward home.

Methos just stared at her as she hiked alongside the road back to the house. "Don't be silly. I'll drive slow."

"Drive any way you want. I'm not getting back into that deathtrap."

Methos got in the car turned it around and drove alongside of her. Finally asking, "Is this slow enough?" She ignored him, but the terror and the grief, and the guilt, started to recede. Then she got embarrassed. 

"Would you get in the car?" Methos was perturbed. "We're at least 10 miles from home."

She stopped. Maybe she had over-reacted. "Promise you'll drive like a normal 800 year old?"

"I promise. Get in."

He had the door open for her before she reached the car. When she sat, she looked for a seatbelt, didn't find one. Methos said, "I'll get you home in one piece."

As he drove home, he made sure he went as slow as he could stand it. When he did allow the speedometer to get too high, she tightened up again. The engine screamed to be shifted up and the sound of it scared her, making her wonder if they were going to blow up. Methos sped up a bit and shifted, "Do you mind telling me what your problem is?"

"I don't like cars."

"You didn't have a problem with the others we've been in."

"You didn't drive like a maniac before." She waved her hand above her and said, "And the wagon has a... top. How much was this thing?"

Methos side stepped that issue. He'd paid too much and knew it, but he usually wasn't in the dickering mood when he wanted something, like the house. The Bizzarrini was a great sports car, he had an eye on them since he first caught a glimpse of one in 1965. It wasn't a garish car, or an attention grabber. Perfect for Methos. He figured he'd just drive it around the remote roads of the mountain, not in the city, maybe take a car trip with Elizabeth. He was a little let down that she wasn't as enamored with it as he was. "It's not hard to drive. Do you want me to teach you?"

"No!"

When he pulled up in front of the house, she went inside, letting the front door slam behind her. Methos found her in the bedroom. A drawer of her bureau was open and she was sitting on the bed with something in her hand. He sprawled on the bed behind her and looked at the painted leather form she fingered lightly in her hand. "What's that?"

She looked at him and told him, "A soul catcher."

"Ah, from your teacher. It's associated with calming. I get it."

"Also, a symbol of physical and mental well-being."

"I won't take that personally," he smiled. When she didn't react, he rubbed his hand on her back and said, "Come on, tell me."

"I killed my husband with one," she admitted. "A black one."

"A black husband?"

"No, with a black car."

"Killed him? Ran him over?"

"He was teaching me how to drive. A fox shot out in front of us. I swerved, I couldn't figure out the clutch, the brakes... there were too many peddles, too much to do. We were going down an incline. I crashed into a tree. I killed us both. So I don't drive."

He laid his hand on her shaking shoulder and softly asked, "When was this?"

"1946." Methos rubbed a tear from her eye, she told him, "He was my favorite husband. Victor Bennett. He survived the storming of Normandy Beach, but not me behind the wheel."

"It was an accident," Methos comforted her. "It isn't anything to beat yourself up over. And you certainly don't have to compare my driving with yours."

"You didn't seem in control of the situation."

He jumped into a sitting position at that. "I'm a great driver. I know what I can handle. And I'm immortal. It wouldn't be permanent if something did happen."

She turned and stared at him, he couldn't be serious. "Does the name Jayne Mansfield mean anything to you?"

"Yeah," he smiled at the memory of the volumptuous actress.

"People get decapitated in cars! Especially ones without roofs."

"I won't be decapitated. Come on." He took her hand and stood her up. 

"Where?"

"The best thing to do when you fall off a bike is to get right back up on it. We're going for a drive."

"Are you a masochist?"

He ignored that, and just pushed her to the door, then into the car. He drove, obeying all the traffic rules on their way into Sintra, but he couldn't help speeding. Elizabeth gripped the arm of the door and the back of his bucket seat. He finally took her hand and put it on the shift, then laid his hand over hers. By the time they entered the city and there was a lot of shifting up and down, she was getting into being part of it. 

When he slowed to stop at a light, she shifted up. He screamed, "No! Down! Down..." The car died. Methos glared at her as he flipped her hand off the stick-shift and restarted the car. 

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"You really should learn how to drive." Methos started the car again, let it rev. "1946? You were over a hundred, what took you so long? I latched onto cars as soon as they were invented."

"Well, you're a man. I'm a woman. I didn't even get to vote until the 1924 national election."

When they saw the street fair, Methos parked and they examined the exhibits. Methos only knew she was comfortable when he felt her arm clench around his waist. "Look at that," he pointed at a church. "I haven't been here for years," Methos drawled, remembering.

"You were here, on this spot?" She looked at the little pink washed church. It looked dilapidated, unused for decades, but people were walking in and out.

"Yes," he chuckled. "I died right here." He rubbed his foot over a piece of stone on it's front.

She couldn't believe he was chuckling over something like dying. She looked around to see if there were people around. There were, but they weren't listening, or David wouldn't have said such a thing, it was only for her benefit. She had to ask, "Well... how did you die? This is holy ground."

"I allowed myself to die." Methos said. "In a duel with a persistent bastard."

She figured the bastard must not have been immortal or it wouldn't have happened on holy ground, and David wouldn't be so happy at the memory. "When was that?"

He thought back, "15... something."

"Was it over some woman?"

"What else did you duel over?"

"Hm..." she said, walking away. Methos smiled and strutted after her. If she could talk about her husbands, he could remember Simone. Sunshine bottled in a petite frame. Potty mouth. About the only thing she didn't say when they were together was that she was engaged. You'd think that information would be given up front... that breezy evening with her was worth the garroting he let the fiancé deliver just to get him out of his hair.

Elizabeth found something at a vendor's makeshift sidewalk store, really just a table with a half tent over it**,** and made a beeline for it. Then she remembered, "Oh, I forgot my purse."

"No, you didn't," Methos said, smiling. "I'm right here." He asked the vendor, "Quanto é que isto custa?" The old, wrinkled man noted how happy the woman was with the lamp and sized up how much the man had on him. 

"85,000 escudos."

Methos was shocked, looked the lamp over and set it back down. He told Elizabeth, "That's over 400 dollars!"

"I'll pay you back."

Methos turned to the vendor and said, "É demasiado caro! O que é que você pensa que está a vender? Devia ter vergonha! Dou-lhe... vinte. {That's too expensive! Who do you think you're dealing with? I'll give you... 20.}"

The vendor cowered, thought he had a hot one, American tourists. Then grumbled, "Setenta.{70.}"

"Trinta. {30.}"

"Cinquenta e cinco. {55.}"

"Quarento e cinco. {45.}"

"Quarenta! {40!}"

He paused, picked it up again, looked it over. "It's still highway robbery, but, okay." He took out his wallet and told the vendor, "Embrulhe-o para não se partir. {Wrap it up so it doesn't break.}"

The man did. When Methos handed over the cash.

Elizabeth, not having caught one word of the negotiations, asked, "So, how much is this going to cost me?"

"Nothing. My treat."

"Thank you." She kissed him and the vendor bonked Methos' arm with the wrapped package.

* * *

**CASA SEGURA **

Elizabeth set the lamp on one of the coffee tables in the living room next to the new couch, the only furniture to sit on in the room. The only other things were a stereo and TV. At the thought of furnishing that house, she got nervous. A lot of her savings were gone already and there were still rooms to fill. She'd have to sell the apartment in New York, not just sublet, as much as she didn't want to.

The phone rang and Methos leaned over, reaching for their new phone on the floor in the corner of the great room**,** to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hi! How are you?... Just a second..." He tapped her on the back with it and said, "It's for you."

"Who?"

"Amy. How did she find out where we were?"

Elizabeth took the receiver and said, "I called information to get her new number and left a message on her machine."

Before she could put the phone to her ear, Methos inquired, "You told her where we were, on a machine? Are you insane?"

"You gave Duncan and Joe our number."

"MacLeod has caller ID. I didn't leave it on the machine. We have to change the number."

"I think I'll take it in the bedroom," Elizabeth mumbled, tossing the receiver at him as she walked to the bedroom.

Methos asked Amy on the phone, "Did your apartment get broken into recently?" 

Amy laughed, "No. Why?"

Elizabeth tisked, "He's pissed that I left our number on your machine."

"It's been erased. Don't worry."

"David?" Elizabeth called out.

"What?"

"She erased the message."

"I heard."

She spoke against into the receiver, "Well then, get off the phone."

"Why?"

"We want to talk about you."

He hung up.

Two hours later, Methos opened the bedroom door to see Elizabeth stretched out on the bed, still with the phone to her ear. He said, "Dinner's ready."

Elizabeth nodded and said she'd soon be finished with the call. After he left the room, she asked Amy, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Another one?" Amy's voice was light. "Sure. What?"

"Can you find a realtor and sell my apartment?"

"Aren't you ever coming back to New York? Dad said David disappears for years at a time, but I hoped you wouldn't."

"No, I'm not going to. Promise. I just...," she paused, hated to admit it. "I need the money. I'm spending a lot here to set up the house, and there's no reason to have two places going."

"The tenants paid their rent, right? I told them to direct deposit to your account."

"Yeah. I've gotten the rent check, deposit, all that, but I also don't want to deal with it in another country."

"I can call the realtor who did the paperwork for Kevin and I. But, you have to come back for a visit at least? Or when the papers are signed?"

"I will. I miss you."

"Me too. Talking on the phone isn't the same. Plan on coming back. I'm not like you, you know. I get older. I may not be here forever."

"We have years, Amy."

"That we do. Come visit, and I'll talk to a realtor."

When she emerged from the bedroom. Methos had already eaten his half of supper. "I'm sorry," she announced. "I guess you're better at disappearing than I am. Or I'm not such a worry wart." 

He didn't like that one bit. "I don't worry."

"What's the crease on your forehead between your eyebrows for then? It only appears when you're worrying."

"Do you want to stay alive?" He picked up his plate and brought it to the sink, looked out the window. "The last thing I want is for the Lone One Legged Ranger to come waltzing in here with his silver bullets."

"Do you think I do? It's all right." She looked at the other plate of now cold food. "I asked Amy to put the apartment up for sale. I might have to go back to sign papers."

"Why?"

"Because realtors like things legal with signatures?"

"No, why sell the apartment?"

"I found the perfect place and I don't need it anymore." She didn't want to admit to him that she could no longer afford both places. It was silly to keep it, she may never see it again as she was too happy right where she was.

* * *

**THAT NIGHT **

While they slept, a massive thunderstorm developed and the thunder boomed, lifting Methos out of his slumber. He turned over in bed, to a slosh of water. Wondering if Elizabeth had suddenly acquired terrible potty habits, he lifted up to examine the bed in the dark, but lightening crackled, lighting up the room. A drop of water hit Methos on the top of his head. Yeah, the foundation was fine, but the roof was leaking. He nudged Elizabeth and said, "Get some buckets."

"What for?"

"A tua casa está a meter água.{Your house is leaking}."

With pots, buckets, bowls in strategic places around the house, Methos was sitting with a blanket wrapped around him on the great room floor. The power had gone out and he set up a candle on a plate. A great yawn escaped him. Water splashed in the kitchen sink and Elizabeth came into the room with an empty mixing bowl and shone a flashlight's beam on the containers. Thinking the stockpot was almost full, she slid it over and put the bowl in it's place. 

Methos opened his blanket and said, "Come here. It's chilly."

Elizabeth sat down on his lap and he pulled the blanket over them. As he kissed her neck, she said, "I suppose it would be a moot exercise to light a fire when it's raining."

"I think my pilot light's lit," he whispered as he spread his legs, letting her slide to the floor.

"That's an eternal flame, David," she smirked his penis was hot on the small of her back. "I still can't get used to that."

"My flame?"

He wrapped his legs over hers and let his hands slide down her sides, then up her stomach. "Tell me again why David Sommers is a better name than Adam Pierson?"

She directed his hands to her breasts and looked over her shoulder at him. "It's a new chapter," he said as he kissed her. 

"I might have come up with something better if you had asked me." She wiggled her hips against him making him moan. "Should I change my name? I don't like Mary Anderson. I've only changed my last name over the years."

He lifted his hips and was helped along when she reached behind her and fondled him. "You can do anything you like," he whispered through his rising breaths.

"Anything?"

"Hm..." he groaned, head buried in her hair, his hand wandered down to her crotch.

She straighten against him as he poked a finger in and took hold of her clit. When she turned her head, his breaths drifted in her ear. "What should I change it to?"

"I have no idea."

"David," she groaned as he rubbed her.

"Nah, that doesn't suit you," he smiled. She moaned, caressing his hand that was making her wet. She reached under him and tickled his balls, they both laughed.

Elizabeth turned and pushed Methos back on the floor, his head bumped on a kettle. "Sorry," she giggled. He slid to the side and she positioned the kettle under the drip. While she laid over him, licking the rain water off his face, he grabbed her breast and rolled his tongue across the already hard nipple. She held herself up as he moved his mouth to the other. 

His penis lifted and touched her pubic hair. She squeezed it between her cheeks. "So, what name would be appropriate?"

"You want me to think now?"

She lifted higher and looked between their bodies making her hair fall over his face. She reached down and stroked him a couple of more times. He pulled at her hair, then reached down and hiked her leg up, making her straddle him. Sitting up behind his erection, Methos still had a hand full of her hair. She kneaded him making it stand up straight, red and ready. She tapped at the sacks behind it, playing with him. Methos laid back with his arms straight out, head back, eyes closed. Soft short breaths escaped him making his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm and his stomach tighten.

"What are you thinking?" She asked as she rubbed the head of his penis.

"I like Mary."

"No. How about... Laverne?"

"No," he laughed. "Trixie?" He lost his laugh and took a great contented intake of breath when he felt her tongue flick at the tip. 

She licked off a dribble of cum and looked up at him, "Glenda?"

He groaned, "Zelda."

She licked at his belly button trapping his penis between her breasts. She rubbed her chest on the hardness, making Methos almost explode. He lifted his hips and arched his back. "Trixie, huh," she lifted her head to see how he was doing. "I kind of like that."

"Whoever you are, get on me, right now."

"Such impatience..." she smiled. "You don't have to hold back," she said, stroking him with her hands. "I like to watch you."

He lifted his head up and saw her head move down his body. He laid his head down again and when he'd had enough he rose up and flipped her over. Quickly laying on top of her, he nudged her legs apart. "Who's holding back," he said as he thrust into her.

A shrill escaped her. She grabbed his face and stared into his eyes as he pumped. She spread her legs wider for him to get as deep as he could. With every thrust, he accomplished just that, making her cry out harder each time. When he released into her, she wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his butt and held on for dear life. "Don't leave me," she pleaded. "Stay."

He felt himself empty and shuddered. Staying inside her, he ground his hips from side to side on hers, making them both grunt. He put his arms under her shoulders and held her tight as he shrunk, feeling her shudder. She lifted her head and lightly bit on his collarbone. Methos put his hands behind her head as a pillow. When he kissed her, he could taste himself in her mouth. He moved his tongue around her mouth, to get every drop, rubbing against her teeth and under her tongue. He brought his tongue back and swallowed, kissed her lower lip, chin, ear. "I've got it," he whispered.

"What?"

"Barbie."

Elizabeth humphed, "I'm not as well endowed as she is."

"But you're my ideal, my lady."

"Really?"

"Mm..." he dropped his head over her shoulder, knocking his forehead on the floor. There was a slight pause before he said, "_Ow_."

She giggled. "Are you alright?"

"You laugh at my pain?"

"Who me?" He lifted up and sat up on her hips. He didn't touch her, just stared at her body as she laid on the blanket. She was uncomfortable, had to ask, "What?"

"Just looking," he smiled. "You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth Bennett."

"What got into you today?"

"I got into you."

"As if that's an unusual occurrence."

"You make me happy." He reached out his hand and straightened a curl of her hair on the floor. "I haven't been happy for a while."

Feeling a rush of warmth and safety, she hiked herself up with her hands behind her and nuzzled his chest. "Hey... that's my line," she said. He sat back and held her up. He reached over and grabbed the blanket and pulled it back over them.

* * *

**FRIDAY OCTOBER 20, 2000 **

They were busy with mopping, patching and cleaning the house and the few pieces of furniture they'd acquired after the rainstorm and the mess the leaks caused. Elizabeth wanted to go into town but Methos left before she knew he had gone. There wasn't a bus, cab, or subway at her disposal. Living in New York, she didn't have to think about acquiring a driver. 

So she went back to cleaning. The deed of the house was sitting on the table. Not quite knowing what it was doing out, she didn't want that lost. When she opened the safe to put it back, she found a little brown leather pouch that was hermetically sealed in plastic. She knew it wasn't hers, so it had to be... She really wanted to know what it was, to open it and maybe find out something about David, or see if it contained jewels, had he bought her a gift? What in the world could it be? 

When it was in her hand, she scrutinized it. The leather was broken in, had been carried for a while. Would David know the seal was broken if she opened it to take a peak? Then she thought, _No, if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me_, even though not knowing burned her butt. She didn't appreciate someone snooping in her things. But it was in a safe that she owned half of. But it was on his shelf. If it wasn't sealed, she might have opened the pouch, but he'd know she was snooping, so she shut the safe without looking.

Elizabeth sat out on the porch with a glass of lemonade. It was a hot one that day, the sun burned after the storm. Methos drove fast into the driveway with his toy. Screeched it to a halt, the dust still swirled when he got out. Elizabeth got a twinge of foreboding and went into the house.

Methos walked in with a bag and sat it on the counter when he walked into the kitchen. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to town?" She asked in lieu of a greeting.

"I did. You obviously didn't hear me. There's the wagon. You could have taken that. Oh, that's right. You don't drive," he teased her. "I'd be happy to teach you."

"I wish you'd take it easy with that thing. The sight of you in a mangled wreckage isn't something I'm looking forward to. Not that you wouldn't revive or anything, but..."

"She of little faith. I've been driving since there's been cars. They're much more comfortable than horses, camels."

"Camels? Were you on an African safari, or something?"

"Something..." He playfully bit her neck. 

She spun around in his arms and held him. "Amo-te {I love you}," she said so softly, he had to ask her what she said. He lifted her head and asked her to repeat it. "I love you and I don't want anything to happen to you."

He kissed her on the forehead and assured her that nothing would. And for good measure, he told her he loved her too. It was finally out in the open**;** he didn't know if love was exactly what he felt for her, but she was important and they were enjoying themselves. Elizabeth was relieved to hear it. That sentence made what they were working at with the new lives, new house, new country all the better.

He gave her the bag and told her to open it. "What is it?"

"Find out."

She opened it and found a Nikon camera with all the bells and whistles. "What's this for?"

"You point it at something and click that button and it takes a picture. What a concept. You wanted something to do. Maybe this can be it. There's wonderful stuff right outside our door. Why don't you use this to capture it?"

"I should be a photographer?"

"You were bitching that you couldn't find anything to do," he said shortly. "Try this. If you don't like it, don't do it. I don't want you to get yourself employment that you're tied to, we might have to leave abruptly."

"Why?"

"What if Logan finds out where you live?" When he saw her face, wearing that look he hadn't seen for weeks, the worry about Logan, he was sorry to have brought it up. "Or any one of a thousand reasons, that's just off the top of my head."

"Thank you for the camera. Maybe I can get Logan's picture before he ambushes me again. Maybe you want to go back to Cairo so you'll be out of the way. Maybe--,"

Methos cut her off. "Logan doesn't know where we are. I was thinking more of me and my enemies."

"That makes me feel so much better."

He shrugged. "It's what we have to think about."

"You do want to be with me, don't you, David?"

"Of course. I love you. This is good. I'm sorry I brought it up, but we should be portable, at least for a while. Go take some pictures. I'm going to go write."

She sat and put the camera together, read the manual. She'd never had a camera with so many features. When the batteries were correctly inserted**,** the lens cap was off and the film loaded, she went looking for David. She found him in the study, reading a massive tome that was spread open on his lap. When the camera flashed, he jumped, deep into Carter's journals of the opening of Tut's tomb he didn't hear her.

"I thought you were going to take pictures outside."

"There's nothing more interesting than you."

Methos smiled and shrugged. "Well, that's the truth."

* * *

**SUNDAY OCTOBER 22, 2000**

With her camera in her hands and three rolls of film in her jacket pocket, she walked through the trail in the woods to see what she'd find. David had left for that trip to Egypt to drop off the 'research tools**'** he checked out. In actuality, he went to Paris to drop off his journals. He was through reading and needed a new batch, and also wanted to make sure his massive journal was better protected. He thought he had his time spent in Egypt in that section of the journal, but with the rush of picking them up and getting back to Sintra without Elizabeth getting suspicious, he took the wrong batch and none of what he had was actually useful for the textbook, just a trip down memory lane for him, reliving the past that he couldn't share with Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth's boots trudged through the thick vegetation, then she heard the echo of the crunching of leaves and brushing of weeds off to her right. She stopped, didn't breathe. A deer with his head lowered to pick through the underbrush, chewed on what he found. The small rack on his head waved as he ate and lowered his head again. Elizabeth stooped and steadied her camera, pointing it at him. When the camera clicked and flashed, it startled the animal and he leaped away from the noise. 

Then she heard feet walking toward her from the thick trees. It was a man with a gun, a big gun, a rifle. She fell back, losing her camera in the underbrush, and ran. The man hollered, "Hei! O que é que está a fazer?! {Hey! What do you think you're doing?!}"

A far off gunshot rang out, Elizabeth fell. The man with the rifle, wearing a bright red vest, walked to her. "Cuidado. {Watch out.}"

Another shot rang out, farther away. The man spun around, then shook his head. Elizabeth, who wanted to crawl under a rock, if she could find one. Regarded the man standing above her. He had a gun, but wasn't using it. Didn't he work for Logan? What he did do was lower his hand to her, to help her up.

She cowered from him, "Who are you?"

"Ah, you speak English," he said. "You should be careful, it's estação da caça {hunting season}. Why did you startle the deer? I had him in my sights."

When he indicated the scope on the rifle, she relaxed, it was the deer he was after, not her. When he pulled her arm to help her to her feet, she sensed a hum. A premmie hum. The man didn't notice her stare when he said, "You should be wearing red or orange, a… cor viva when you're in the woods. You could get atingida {shot}."

"Sorry," she tried to determine how old he was. 35? 40? She knew it was only possible for him to turn immortal if he died a violent death. She had mixed feelings about it. She wanted him to live a long happy mortal life, but if he didn't die soon, he wouldn't survive as an immortal. If he didn't die when he was still strong, he would never be able to defend himself. 

He took her arm and said, "Stick with me until we get to the road." She stopped to retrieve her camera then they walked back down the trail. "I'm António," he said, then looked at her. "You're not the lady who lives up the serra, are you?"

"The hill, yes, Elizabeth."

"My mulher, Sofia, has been meaning to visit you. We haven't been very hospitaleiros {welcoming}, have we?"

"Do you live in the white house about a mile from here?" He nodded. "We've gone by your house I don't know how many times and we haven't stopped in to introduce ourselves, either."

"Well, we can break bread together, maybe venison."

"That sounds great," she smiled. Another shot rang out in the woods. "Are there a lot of hunters up there?"

"Cinco. My brother and some friends. They were probably trying to get that cervos you spooked."

"I'm sorry," but really wasn't. She personally knew how that deer felt being hunted and shot at. They reached the road and he told her to just go home, don't go off the road. "I won't," she promised. 

"What about that supper?"

"I'd love it, but David won't be home until tomorrow."

"Is he your marido?"

"No. Amigo... Friend. "

"Sofia would like to meet you, why don't you two introduce yourselves and we'll get together when David comes back. Next week?"

"That sounds great."

"We're in the book. António Santos."

"We're not in the book, but I'll give you the number later." She smiled. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

With David was gone, Elizabeth wasn't thinking of rushing back to the empty house. She decided to stop in at António's house to meet Sofia. As soon as Sofia appeared at the door and invited her in, they hit it off immediately. She did pepper her conversation with a lot of Portuguese, but Elizabeth was able to make out most of what she was saying. Sofia looked to be in her mid thirties, was a little stout, and moved hurriedly with everything she did, from fixing the tea, to gathering cookies on a plate, to answering the phone, to taking out the dogs, then letting them in again. 

During the tea and cookies, Elizabeth was surprised to find out more than expected about Sofia and António. The only thing Sofia didn't say, and there was no way she or António would know it, was that António would one day be immortal. Sofia did confide, "We can't have children."

Elizabeth knew why, but Sofia said, "I think it could be because I damaged my body when I was younger. I had a terrible drug problem."

It surprised Elizabeth that Sofia would admit such a thing to a stranger, so she just put on a 'so sorry' face and took a bite of cookie. "António and I have a hard time adopting because of it. He finally gave up and now we just have the dogs. They're like our children."

After spending an afternoon with Sofia, needless to say, Elizabeth found the woman didn't have a secret in the world. They had a lot in common, their views on things were similar. One thing Elizabeth did envy about Sofia was that Sofia had a job, something to do. She did seamstress work out of her home. That was something else Elizabeth was never good at, but there had to be something. Her hand brushed against the camera and wondered if she actually could make it as a photographer. 

* * *

**TUESDAY OCTOBER 24, 2000**

Sofia dropped Elizabeth off at the house after a shopping excursion where neither bought anything. Their company was leaving and Sofia wanted to see them off. They got three deer that year and she told Elizabeth she and David should come over for supper. 

"We'll be sure to do that."

Elizabeth brought David a cup of tea and rubbed his head as he sat at the computer keyboard. She read what he was writing on the monitor as he typed. "You're a fast typist," she commented.

"I want to get this done."

She read as David typed out about the workers who were buried in the shadows of the pyramids. "Workers? Is that the politically correct catchphrase for slaves?"

"Slaves didn't build the pyramids. The workers were well paid, well taken care of," he said, not for a minute stopping his thought as he typed. "The pyramids weren't taken for granted. It was important work and needed the best minds and best hands available. One weak link and the whole thing would topple, then the Pharaoh wouldn't be able to live forever, go to the gods."

Elizabeth sat on a chair, mumbled, "That's not what I learned."

"That's why a new textbook is needed," he stopped to reread what he typed. "I saw a student in a library and what she was studying from. Adequate at best."

"Well, you can't make things up, David."

"This is true," he said, turning to her. 

"According to who?"

"Whom."

"Well?"

"I was there."

"Excuse me?"

Sometimes he forgot who he was talking to. He thought fast. "At the Cairo library. It's there in the archives. Graves were recently exhumed that could only be the workers of the pyramids. They were mummified and forever laid in the shadows of the pyramids. That doesn't sound like how they treated slaves." He remembered the rituals that went into sending the workers to their glory in the service of the pharaoh. "Folktales and lore... Cecil B. DeMille overtook the facts in this case. I'm going to make sure it's all correct."

"Correct is one thing, but you're making it sound personal."

He turned around in his chair and looked at her. He almost told her he was in fact there BC. That it was personal. But she was an immortal and he didn't know if he could trust her with the secret of who he was. He realized he was being overly cautious, but it's kept him alive, right? "Don't you think students should learn the facts?"

"Of course."

"You aren't going to claim that every single thing chronicled about the Civil War is correct?"

"Yes, I am," she simply stated. "The Civil War was intricately documented. Literate men fought and kept descriptive diaries. It's probably the most finely detailed war ever fought on earth, before the age of TV news. Did you get involved in the Civil War at all?"

"No, I was in South America. Why don't you write?"

"About what?"

"The Civil War."

"What hasn't been said about it?"

"Your experiences during all the wars you've seen. Your book could be a journal of nurses. The personal side, as seen by a woman caught up in the horror."

She sighed, "Yeah... Could end it with the woman being turned immortal by a one legged man?"

"Use your own judgement on that."

She looked at the monitor again, "How old did you say you were?"

"800."

He went back to typing, wanting to finish his thought. She read it. "800. That's what I thought you said. This doesn't look like any textbook I've ever taught from. You're pretty first person narrative there."

He reread a couple of paragraphs. It was. "I thought I'd try a different approach. Maybe it would make the texts easier to digest." His words seemed hollow, even to him. He squinted at the keyboard as she left the room.

"Uh, huh...," she said, seriously thinking that David was pulling her leg. As if he'd ever tell her anything on his own about himself, not just one word answers when he was cornered.

"You should get ready to go over to Sofia's for supper."

"Who are they, again?"

"Our neighbours. His name is António. Oh, and he's a--."

When the phone rang, Methos rushed to pick it up. "I've been expecting this call. Sorry."

Elizabeth figured David would get one whiff of Antonio's pre-immortal hum and figure it out himself. No biggy. She busied herself with getting gussied up for a night out with new friends. Ithad been a while since they'd done anything fun. Methos simply put on a new shirt and she had to ask him to change out of jeans too. He grumbled, but did so.

When they arrived at António and Sofia's, António opened the door and greeted them. Elizabeth smiled and handed him the bottle of red wine they brought. "Bem-vindo!" António said. "Come on in."

Methos' demeanor became tight, eyes focused on António. He pulled at Elizabeth's arm and told António**,** with a smile as he walked them backward from the door, "Excuse us. I need to talk to her."

Elizabeth was confused and a little embarrassed, António didn't know what to think about their new neighbours, or what he might have done to deserve such a reaction. Methos dragged Elizabeth back to the car and vehemently whispered, "Are you kidding me?"

"What? What is this all about?"

"Quiet down," Methos shushed her, noticing António still at the door. "He's a premmie."

"Yeah."

"I can't be around a premmie."

"Why not?"

He moved her to behind the car, farther away from António's hearing range. "They attract the wrong element."

"What are you talking about? He knows nothing of what he is, or will become and he's a very nice man."

"You were turned because Logan sensed your pre-immortal hum. Are you glad that happened?"

"It had to happen sometime, we're all premmies at one time."

"Would you enjoy having more Logan's appear in the vicinity?"

David's tightened and dire demeanor really threw her for a loop. She'd been around premmies often; didn't know what the big deal was. Better a premmie than an immortal. "Why would that happen?"

"An immortal could get a sense of him and turn him. That's the kind of immortal I stay away from."

"David," she smiled, exasperated. "António's almost 40 years old. It hasn't happened yet, why would it happen now? He's lived here all his life. That's what's perfect about this place. The only immortals in the area are you and me."

Sofia appeared at the door, along with a couple of dogs. "Liz, what are you two doing out there?"

A large sheppard waddled up to them and sniffed. The dog jumped back when he got too close, as if their immortal buzz bit him on the nose. When he tried to give Methos another chance and sniffed his leg, he reacted like Methos was emitting a high pitched sound. He ran to the back of the house. "It's chilly," Sofia didn't notice the dog's behavior, brushed her arms, and said, "Come on in. Dinner's almost ready."

"We'll be right there," Elizabeth said, keeping a grip on David's hand when it looked like he was going to take off. 

Methos held his finger up to her and said, "Just a sec?"

"Don't embarrass me in front of my friend, please."

"Me embarrass you? I'm leaving."

"Don't you dare. These are good people, you'll like them. You'll be lucky to know them. What am I going to tell them if you leave? All you have to do is eat, indulge in a little small talk, then we'll leave."

"Why didn't you tell me he was a premmie before?"

"I tried, but the phone rang. And it's not that big a deal. I didn't know they spooked you, which is ridiculous."

He didn't like that at all, but Sofia and António were looking at him along with Elizabeth. He put on a relaxed air and walked into the house to have some food and then get the hell out of there. He was debating whether or not they'd get their money back on the house or have to take a loss on it when they moved.

But the dinner went well. They talked in Portuguese and English. Methos had to admit he liked António. Heck, he wasn't all that close to him. If Methos sensed an immortal, he could take off in no time. He liked having options.

* * *

**TUESDAY DECEMBER 12, 2000**

Not having really talked to Duncan since leaving New York, Methos decided to call to see how everything was. Their two earlier calls were hurried as Duncan was just going out the door. This time, Duncan had time to talk, and his voice was solemn when he said the one word that would explain his mood, "Felicia."

"Who's that?"

"Oh, there's a woman in my life you hadn't already met?"

Methos was surprised. "Jealous?"

"She tried to kill Amanda."

Methos chuckled. "You do live an adventurous life, Highlander. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall."

"This is serious."

"Why? Is she gone? Is Amanda still kicking? What's the problem?"

"Oh, never mind."

"Hey," Methos softly said. "What happened?"

"I almost had to take her head."

"What womanly charms did she use on you to make sure you didn't?"

"I couldn't!"

Methos groaned, "How many times do you have to have a sword to your neck before you figure out you have to strike first? Even if they do wear pretty dresses?" Methos looked to see if Elizabeth was around. When he was comfortable that she wasn't, he whispered, "When will you ever learn?"

"Oh, please. Sometimes I wonder why we're still friends."

"Hey!" Silence. Methos said, "Sounds like you could use a change of scenery. Why don't you come here?"

"Maybe so..."

Methos was concerned, why was that so easy? But, he suggested he and Amanda came to Sintra for Christmas, see their place. 

"That sounds really good. Liz wouldn't mind?"

"Why would she? She's so starved for friends she made some with a premmie and his wife down the road from us."

"A premmie?"

"Yes. Can you imagine?"

After hanging up he went looking through the house for Elizabeth. Next to the door of the closet in the spare bedroom that she had turned into a darkroom, the red warning light was on. He grabbed a book and laid down to read until she was done. When she emerged from the darkroom with a picture in her hand, she was startled by David lying on the bed. "God, give me warning."

"It's just little ol' me."

"I thought you were going to call Duncan."

Methos looked at his watch. "Yeah, I did, an hour ago."

"Hm," Elizabeth smiled. "You couldn't find things to talk about?"

"Not like you and Amy can, obviously. What do you have there?"

Elizabeth showed him a black and white photograph of a deer feeding on the grass. Methos gasped, "How close to that did you get?"

"Not very. That's the wonder of a telephoto lens. It's nice, isn't it? What did you and Duncan talk about?"

"Ah, stuff."

"Don't you get tired of not telling me anything?" As soon as she said that, she wished she hadn't. Judging by David's expression, she shouldn't have. "Sorry. What are you going to make for supper?"

Methos didn't want to put down his book. "I think it's time you learned how to cook."

"It won't work. I know how to cook, I just don't like to cook and whatever I make isn't edible, except stroganoff."

"So make stroganoff. Wait on me for a night."

"I'm sick of it and we don't have any cream."

"Go to the store."

"I got nice fresh pork chops yesterday. Come on, grill them. I'll make the lettuce salad."

"All right," he painfully said. "Then you're going to wait on me and you're going to do dishes."

"When do I not?"

* * *

**SATURDAY DECEMBER 23, 2000**   
**LISBON AIRPORT**

When Duncan and Amanda emerged from the plane, Methos and Elizabeth met them as they got off the ramp. Duncan grabbed Methos into a hug and said, "I've actually missed you."

Methos patted him on the back, glad their little tiff on the phone was over. He hoped Felicia was out of the picture too. They moved aside for others to come past them. Duncan grinned at Elizabeth and said, "I'm glad to see you again."

Amanda took her arm and moved her towards the airport, "You have to show me the great places to go. I haven't been here for centuries."

Methos whispered to Duncan, "Call me David."

"Sure."

"Amanda knows that, right?"

"Yes, David," he assured him, but shook his head. He'd been with Elizabeth for over three months and he hadn't clued her in yet?

They stayed in Lisbon that day, the whole city had been celebrating Christmas all week. The streets of downtown Lisbon were all decorated with Christmas decorations and lights. In the air was the smell of roasted chestnuts from the street vendors who warmed the air on the chilly winter day. Sofia and António invited them to a meal of traditional Natal and included Duncan and Amanda. They both felt António's hum, but didn't show it. The hum didn't faze them. Duncan only asked Elizabeth if she was prepared to help him if he died. He knew Methos probably wouldn't be any help. When Elizabeth got flustered, not really thinking about that being a possibility, Duncan told her to just call him.

"Thank you," she smiled. "Why are you willing, and... I'm not sure David would be?"

"I've taken in students. David hasn't. I don't think. Or he doesn't want to. Or... I don't know."

Sofia also invited Mrs. Ramirez, one of the old couple who were horse breeders and lived down the hill from them. Her husband wasn't mobile anymore; asthma was taking over his body, but he sent his wishes and told her to go and have fun. "We're glad you did," Sofia told her. "We'll have to get together for New Years Eve."

Elizabeth smiled at David, "Ah, the true new millennium. I can't wait."

* * *

**CASA SEGURA**

After the huge meal, all of them having eaten more then ever before in their lives, they walked into the house and each took a chair or couch. Trying to digest. Methos got a beer for himself and a whiskey coke for Elizabeth. Then brought a wine bottle and a couple of glasses to Duncan and Amanda.

Amanda looked at the wine and said, "I think I've eaten too much for that. Sofia's a great cook."

Methos smiled at Elizabeth, "Maybe you should take cooking lessons from her if you aren't going to take them from me."

"Why? I have a live-in chef."

Amanda laughed, "You go girl!"

"You've got quite a set up here, David," Duncan said, looking around the room again. The shelves were full, the furniture was enough to fill the house. It had the lived in look. 

"We like it," Methos drank. "Have you been in the States or Paris?"

"Paris," Amanda said. "But it was too quiet without you, Methos."

Methos tensed and only Duncan noticed it. Elizabeth asked, "What's a Meethas?"

All the air in the room seemed to have escaped for Methos. Amanda said, "I'm sorry. I thought she'd have known by now."

Elizabeth asked, "Known what?" at the same time Methos said, "Shut **_up_**__, Amanda."

Elizabeth's head spun, reacting to what he said and how angrily he said it. "Why? Why should she shut up?" Stone silence. Methos just slurped his beer. Amanda sat back and refused to maintain eye contact with her. "Were you two an item and it's a term of endearment?"

Methos said, "Yes," that was a good answer. Amanda laughed at the prospect. Duncan was silent, just shook his head that Methos hadn't let his lady in, like he should have. Methos didn't trust anyone, how could he play such games with someone whom he himself said was special, someone that he said he loved. How could he keep so many secrets in the air? The silence was thick and heavy.

Elizabeth placed her whiskey coke on the table and demanded, "What is going on here?" Methos wouldn't look at her, just took a deep breath. "Is that a name? Your name?" More silence. He didn't want to have to tell her anything on someone else's terms, only on his own. "What is the big deal about your past? Aren't you proud of it? Am I going to find out you're a mass murderer or something?" Duncan almost did a spit take, letting out a slight grunt. Methos slowly looked at her, debating what to tell her, not liking that crack for one moment.

Amanda was beet red and really wanted to say more, but Methos gave her the look that told her he would release the hounds of hell if she dared open her mouth again, so she remained silent and sat back on the couch.

"Wonderful," Elizabeth muttered, feeling embarrassed and out of place in her own home with three immortals who knew so much more than she did, and weren't about to tell her anything. She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Duncan immediately said, "Good move, Methos. Why haven't you at least told her your name?"

Amanda said, "How long have you two been together? How have you finagled that?" Methos just got up and silently crossed the long room and opened the closed door of the bedroom. 

Elizabeth was pissed and pacing, debated about packing up and leaving. What was the purpose of staying there? As soon as he came into the bedroom and shut the door, she turned on him, "Meethas? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's mine," Methos stoically remarked.

"What's your last name?"

"Sommers."

"You know what I **_mean_**__!"

"I don't have a last name given to me at birth."

"Not even the name of your village?" He shook his head. "That would make you... royalty... or a hell of a lot older than you've let on, even though I've prodded you many times**; **you've always clammed up."

"I've been many things. I've had many names. I'm just as truly David Sommers as I am Adam Pierson, Benjamin Adams, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John! It's just a **_name_**__!" He'd been taken by surprise by the big mouth. Who else had Amanda told she knew Methos? Damn her! Then he stopped, realizing what he said in a moment of anger. Methos wasn't just a name. He loved his name. He wished Elizabeth had known it, so she could call him by it. He would love to hear her say it without the anger, without the foreignness making her pronounce it incorrectly. He wanted it to roll off her tongue. The only women's voices who had uttered it in centuries were Amanda, and Cassandra. Neither woman said it as it should be said. One usually whined it, the other acted like 'Methos' was another word for 'snake in the grass'.

"Then why the secret?" Elizabeth countered, "If that's your true name how could you not tell me... something so basic... as your name! I've been so stupid. I've told you everything about me and you've sat back and not let me in on one damn thing."

"I can't let everybody in on it." He regretted saying that as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Everybody? I'm **_everybody_**__? Have you enjoyed it? That I've just let all the non-answers pass and end up in bed with you? You've had it pretty nice. Fuck me, but for God's sake, don't trust me!"

"I didn't trust you!" he countered. "Why should I? You have an immortal after you, you're **_lucky_**__ I stuck around you in the first place!"

Sticks and stones may not break Methos' bones, but those words cut through her as cleanly as if he'd used a dagger. "Oh, is that who you are? I'm **_lucky_**__?! You're that big a **_prize_**__?!" She laughed and started packing her suitcase. That was enough to make her adrenaline rush turn to a boiling in her veins.

"Okay," Methos calmed down, took a breath, no need to say things that can't be taken back. "Ask me anything."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you what you want to know."

She slowly smiled and looked away, "That reminds me of the Godfather."

"What?"

"The last scene of the movie 'The Godfather'," Elizabeth sneered. "Michael tells Kay she can ask him one question after she finally figured out Michael had Carlo whacked... he lied to her when she asked. He bold-faced lied to her and that's what you're going to do. Again. So why should I even bother?"

She started to empty her drawer of the bureau into her suitcase. Methos said, "I haven't lied to you. I may have fudged. I may have withheld the truth. I will be honest. Ask me anything. Just simmer down!" He grabbed her underwear from her hand and threw it on the floor.

"Trouble is... Meethas..." She felt weird using the name. It was too strange, unusual. It was a little scary knowing that she didn't have a clue about the man she actually left everything she knew for. "I'm no longer interested."

"You don't mean that. You wouldn't be acting like this if you weren't!"

"I don't appreciate being lied to! What have we been doing here? You haven't been building a life with me. Have I just been **_servicing_**__ you?"

"No, Lizzie..."

"Fuck off."

Furious, Methos grabbed her. Elizabeth slapped him and he impulsively back handed her across the cheek. When she was hunched over in surprise more than pain, he put his hand on her back and said, "I'm sorry, Liz." She straightened and slapped him away, held her stinging face. She packed more in the suitcase. He grabbed her shoulders and yelled, "You're not going **_anywhere_**__!"

Duncan busted into the room and pulled them apart. "That's enough. Calm down. Both of you!"

"What's your real name?" she asked Duncan.

"Duncan MacLeod."

Pointing to the door, she asked, "And that's really Amanda Montrose?"

"She's gone by a lot of last names. But her name is Amanda."

She looked at Methos and shook her head. "Why are you so special? Or are they lying? I don't even know who or what to believe! I thought I knew you!"

Duncan said, "Calm down!"

Elizabeth walked to the door, but Methos grabbed the suitcase from her hand. Leaving it, she walked to the front door. Amanda followed her from the door of the bedroom. "I'm so sorry, Liz, it just slipped out. I thought he would have told you."

"So did I," Elizabeth grabbed her coat and walked out. 

Methos came out of the bedroom and Duncan and Amanda both stared at him. Methos mumbled, "Right..." shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

Amanda said, "Go after her!"

"That's what she wants," was all the reason Methos gave for not moving an inch.

"Of course it is, you idiot!"

"She's not going to get far! She doesn't drive! She's probably just going to go to Sofia's. I'll talk to her in the morning when she's calmed down."

A gun shot echoed in the distance. Everyone jumped, all eyes grew wide and looked at the door. It had to be Logan! Duncan ran between Methos and Amanda out of the house.

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Chapter Seven

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	7. The New Millennium

**THE ELIZABETH SERIES  
CHAPTER SEVEN**

**THE NEW MILLENNIUM**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING**: PG 

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A OC Elizabeth Bennett

**SUMMARY**: Elizabeth's gone, Methos' trying to write and meets up with an old friend.

* * *

**SATURDAY DECEMBER 23, 2000  
CASA SEGURA**

Even though Logan would leave Elizabeth alone for decades at a time, he always kept track of her. There never really was a time when he didn't know about where she was and what she was doing, how many heads she'd taken, if she was married again. He was her personal watcher, with a staff of good people who liked to keep secrets and be well paid. He didn't know that there was an entire network of watchers out there keeping tabs on _all_ immortals.

While in New York, Logan couldn't get the thought that it was Elizabeth's time to die out of his mind. Nine was his lucky number. She got away from him. He had to take her now, enough was enough. He thought about her entirely too much, and that brought back thoughts of what that butcher had done to him. Every time he got out of bed in the morning and saw his stump, he vividly remembered how that butcher so callously ruined his beautifully strong body. Had ruined his chance of winning the game. She should be easy to take. But, for the first time, she was surrounded by immortals. 

Why did he have to make the 9th visitation the one? Why not the 8th when he had fun killing that Australian husband of hers? Elizabeth begged him to take her head. But he didn't, only because she begged. After that mortal woman got married in New York City and went off somewhere with her husband, Elizabeth also disappeared. Logan wondered if he should just stay in Denver and live his life, wait another 20 years, get her next time, she may not be surrounded by immortals then... but he couldn't. 

He reviewed everything he knew about her life and time in New York. He knew that Elizabeth had quit her job at NYU. She wasn't at her apartment, even though a mortal who was outfitted daily in denim, some man not hired by Logan, hovered in her neighborhood, and Logan wondered why. The mortal friend and her husband came back from their trip, but didn't have physical contact with Elizabeth. 

He got on his plane and searched in every city he knew she had ever lived, starting with the place where their shared history began, Gettysburg, PA. Then on to Los Angeles. Then to Dallas. Charleston. Minneapolis. Miami. Everywhere he looked, nothing. It was like the women fell off the face of the earth, at least in the United States. Logan even went to Australia, the scene of their last meeting when he was able to have his way with her. And was able to slice her husband. It did no good, the world was too big.

  
  


If Logan was going to find her, he'd have to start with the people she knew. He thought about the immortals she surrounded herself with during her last week in New York. Through his minions' research, he got nothing. None of the three immortals were still in New York. Getting more and more angry, he decided to turn to the old man they all seemed so concerned about, Joseph Dawson. After watching his comings and goings, there had been no contact with her. One of his men asked if they should take him. That would draw Elizabeth out of her hiding place. Logan debated his options. That might work, but the man didn't have legs. Logan felt a bit of pity for him and figured he'd gone through enough.

Going back to the beginning, rethinking everything, he turned again to the denim clad man who continued to loiter around Elizabeth's apartment building, even though Elizabeth had been gone for weeks. Logan figured he would only get information out of the man by questioning him and knowing a pleasant chat on the sidewalk wouldn't do. Logan had the man kidnaped. 

When Logan questioned the denim man, no answers were forthcoming so he decided to drop the pleasantries and had the man tortured. Only then did Darrell Foley confess that he was Elizabeth Bennett's watcher. _A watcher? _Logan had to have that explained, listening intently when the information about the watcher system flowed out of the crying, pain-addled denim man's lips.

It was amazing what a little pain could reveal. Foley truly knew nothing of where Elizabeth had run, and was himself in big trouble with the watchers for losing her. He also had to find her. Logan placed his cane on the tied up man's broken foot and leaned all his weight on it and asked, "Who are the other immortals?"

"Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," Darrell spouted in agony.

"He has a ponytail?"

Darrel nodded, his body worn out from the pounding at the hands of the brute standing just behind Logan's shoulder. There was another one, a smaller man, writing down everything he said 

"The female is Amanda Montrose," Darrell felt himself slowly slipping away, uttering any sound was difficult, but he had to talk if he wanted to live. "She's an old one. Over a thousand years old."

Logan gasped at that, in awe that one so scrawny could survive that long. Maybe he had a chance in that game after all. "Maybe we can work together," Darrell hopefully offered, spitting out the blood that collected in the back of his throat. He knew he had broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung because it was getting harder and harder to draw even the smallest breath.

He made the mistake of moving his hand. All his broken fingers brushed against the chair he was tied to, making him scream in pain. "Let's work together... please," he pleaded with the immortal.

"What do I need you for?"

"The other one she spent the night with," another wave of wracking coughs escaped him. Logan pulled his head back by the hair and waited for him to continue. Darrell had trouble catching his breath, but coughed out, "Adam Pierson... he's a... researcher."

"Like you?"

Darrell Foley collapsed, his coughs grew weaker from lack of lung power. Before he could tell Logan more about Adam Pierson, he died. Logan glared at his corpse, pushed over the chair that he was tied to, making Darrell fall and lay like a lump on the floor, that Logan just stepped over, disgusted. Nothing was going his way. _A researcher of what_? He thundered at his men, "Throw him in the East River and get me information on Duncan MacLeod. Now!"

~~~~~

A week later, Logan found out Duncan MacLeod had residences in Seacouver, USA, and Paris, France. "Finally, Logan muttered, "Something I can work with!" He hoped Duncan MacLeod wasn't the type who met up with an immortal and then went his way, not seeing them again, or if he did, not for decades or centuries. Logan didn't have that much time. He had to take care of Elizabeth so he could finally put his mind to rest. If he could kill that butcher, Carlton, again, he would. Gladly.

He prepared his plane and went on the trail of Duncan MacLeod. He found him in Paris. Like a moth to a flame, MacLeod and Amanda led Logan right to Elizabeth's door. Nice place she was living in. When he looked through binoculars at her and who he assumed was the researcher of _something_, Adam Pierson, and their guests entering their house outside of Sintra that evening, he seethed. Elizabeth looked happy, walked freely without a care in the world. Something he couldn't do, because of her and her jumpy friend. 

Every smile she produced for her guests made him more angry. He hated that woman now, even more then when he first laid eyes on her. He'd come to her house alone, his men were back at the hotel. He was just going to walk back to his car and get them, to formulate a plan of attack on the two immortals with her, when Elizabeth came out of the house alone for what Logan thought was a walk in the woods. He impulsively shot her. 

Elizabeth laid still on the ground. Revenge filled Logan's head and he didn't think about the others inside the house. This would be so easy, so quick. He'd be enjoying her quickening before they could even get outside. He walked to her on his prosthetic leg. The one she and her friend made sure he lived with for the rest of his life. Fake legs had gotten better over the years. He started out with a peg leg. Then a wooden one in the shape of a real leg. Then a steel rod that was lighter and more mobile, but was obviously still fake. Then plastic. After his last one was broken in New York, he purchased a new one. A good one. Molded plastic over a computer chip enhanced robotic inner structure. It cost him more than his plane had, but he didn't need to use a cane, it actually felt like a real leg once again.

When Logan reached down to pull her head up to take it, he got the surprise of his life. Elizabeth had pulled a gun out of her jacket and held the barrel to his forehead. He moved back, just as she shot up from the ground, with the gun trained at his head. His bullet had grazed her side and she was recovering from it, but was mad as a rabid dog. "Give me a reason," she sneered. "I'm in a really **_pissy_**__ mood right now! Please do something to make me shoot your goddamn head off!"

Logan dropped his gun from the surprise, she kicked it away. They both felt buzzes. Three forms advanced on them from the house. Duncan ran up and got Logan's gun that he dropped on the ground. Elizabeth didn't flinch. She only said, "We're going to fight this out. You and me, fairly. I learned a lot over the years, maybe it's time you saw what I can do, Logan. I'm done learning. You do remember how the game is supposed to be played, don't you? Joshua?"

Logan stepped back. She noticed he was moving better. Looked down at his leg, it could bend at the knee. He no longer needed a cane. Elizabeth asked, "Duncan? Is there anyone else in the area?"

"It's just us," he glared at the man.

She handed Duncan her gun and took the sword out of her coat. "Come on," she told Logan. 

Logan violently shook his head, stepping back, keeping an eye on her, and the other immortals. "I take your head and they'll take mine." He cursed himself for being impulsive, for putting himself in this position.

"That's assuming you take my head," Elizabeth said. "Let's make a deal. They're all pretty truthful over there." When she cocked her head in Methos' direction, Methos snarled at her because of the dig. Not that she noticed. Her eyes didn't leave her opponent. She vowed, "If you happen to win this duel, they will promise to let you go. You won fair and square." 

She looked at the other immortals. They didn't return her gaze, saw only the little coward who had Joe shot. Elizabeth continued, "All you've done in the past is the past, all the innocent people you've killed... you have to work out with God. It's just you and me here."

"He shot Joe," Amanda reminded her. There wasn't a chance in hell they'd let that man go free.

"You're under the assumption I'm going to lose," Elizabeth told her. 

"That's true. That was a mistake. I'm sorry. You go girl!" Amanda stepped back to stand by Methos, who stepped away from her, angry that this whole mess started because she unthinkingly spouted off his name.

"Just get it over with, Liz," Methos told her, losing his patience. 

The wound on Elizabeth's side healed as she inquired of Logan, "You do have a sword, don't you, Joshua?" Elizabeth moved toward him and opened his coat. He pulled it out and held it in a threatening manner at her face. She stepped back and lifted hers. Logan put his sword down and shook his head. It was only at that moment that he realized that Adam Pierson was an immortal. What did an immortal have to research?

Methos wondered why, after all this time, she was calling him Joshua, instead of Logan, like she always had. Was it another dig at him, she had just found out his true name and she was rubbing it in, even though she was challenging an immortal and her mind should be on that? Or was she trying to humanize the monster? Make herself less afraid of him? Methos studied the man who was the cause of so much grief. There wasn't much to him. Methos could have taken the man in his sleep.

Elizabeth liked being in the position she was in. Funny... standing toe to toe with the man, he didn't seem that scary. Why had she let this go on her entire immortal life? She smiled, "You don't like a fair challenge? Can't fight? When was the last time you had a fair fight?"

Logan's eyes burned holes in her. "With that rebel."

"And you ended up on your ass."

"Because that butcher stopped the fight!"

"Because Carlton was a good man! He only tried to help you! He was Union through and through! You were one of **_us!" _**Elizabeth could have liked the Irishman who put himself on the line for her side during a war, even though it had nothing to do with his homeland. Yes, if circumstances were different, she could have liked Joshua Logan. She felt sorry for his situation, but hated his methods. She tapped his sword with hers. "Come on..." He stepped back. She lifted her sword and placed it at his neck. "I don't care if you don't fight. You can't run and I'm taking your head. The least you can do is protect yourself."

He flipped her sword blade away with his own. When they fought, Elizabeth let him get in a few nice swings, when he lunged she made him think he could actually win. She hadn't taken a head for years, but knew how to fight. That prosthetic of his was amazing. He was actually moving with grace and speed. But, when he got too cocky, he fell. Elizabeth stooped down and lifted him back to his feet. 

"Liz, would you just **_take_**__ him!" Methos said, irritated at her politeness. This wasn't a practice session.

Elizabeth liked playing with Joshua Logan, tried to make him a worthy opponent. She cut him, fought, backed off, let him come at her, let him cut her, but protected swings to her head. Each slice of his blade on her body, was like each time he attacked her in the past and the pain didn't even register. She just savored the fact that she was finally going to take his head. When his sword cut her right arm, her fighting arm, her immortal instincts kicked in, the game was over in this challenge. Taking hold of his hand on the hilt of his sword, she jabbed her blade through his stomach, causing him to fall to his knee, breaking his new state-of-the-art leg. She yanked the sword out with a gruffness that was pure adrenaline. Only pausing for a second to look at the heaving man at her feet, she hunched over him and pulled his head back. What she saw on his face surprised, then thrilled her. Logan was crying. 

Touching him made her want to throw up, but she leaned closer and sneered into his ear, "Do you remember Marcy's face? The last thing she ever saw was frozen in her eyes. It's just too damn bad that vision had to be _you_." She jerked his head as she seethed, "Do you remember it? What she looked like when you slit her throat? Or Paulie's face? As you had him executed? Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes, I did," he seethed through clenched teeth. "Every **_bloody_**__ minute!"

With a swing of her sword, his head flew into the trees as she yelled, "Burn in hell!" Elizabeth was still shaking with anger and exhaustion when the quickening hit her. Methos, Duncan and Amanda stepped back, out of the way of the light storm. Methos looked all over to see if any of their neighbors saw any of it, even though he knew they were to far away. He was pissed when the tail lights of the Bizzarrini shattered, relieved when the windshield and everything else on his baby remained untouched.

After it was over, Elizabeth picked up Logan's sword and plunged it into the ground. The three of them gathered around her. Methos said, "It's over. It's all over." He was relieved, thinking one of the reasons he was weary of getting closer to her no longer existed. With Logan out of the way, they could get on with living.

Elizabeth got to her feet, walking past Methos. Duncan held the gun out to her, handle first. "I don't need that anymore," Elizabeth said, and walked back to the house.

Methos followed her into the house, happy she was going back. She'd just take a nice hot bath, have a drink, think about it all, they'd have a little talk about his name and a little about his past and they could get back to living. 

"Good job, Liz," he told her, following her into the bedroom. Elizabeth ignored him, started to change clothes. Methos said, "I'll run the tub for you."

When she was fully dressed, she put her coat back on and leaned over to pick up her suitcase. "I'm leaving."

"Just talk to me," Methos said.

"I do need one thing from you," Elizabeth swung around to say. "I sunk a lot of money into this place. Will you buy me out?"

"No," he called her bluff. She would see the light and stay, he knew she would.

"Thanks, buddy," she seethed as she walked past him to the door.

He grabbed her arm and said, "Liz, you belong here." He was angry she didn't take what he was saying seriously. "If you leave, we're through."

"You promise?" He was shocked. Let go of her arm. More shocked when she walked back out the front door. 

After she was gone, Duncan asked Methos, "Do you _like_ being alone? Because you do a very good job of pushing people away."

"I'm not the one who's leaving here," Methos said, staring at Duncan on the other side of the threshold to the bedroom. Not liking the condescending look he was getting. Methos slammed the door shut between them.

When Elizabeth got outside the house and saw Logan's corpse lying against a tree, she hollered, "Wentworth! Where are you?" Diane emerged from the trees. Elizabeth walked to her. "Thanks for warning us once again."

"That's not my job," the older woman said, dressed in a black pantsuit, perfect to wear when hiding in the shadows. "But I'm glad you got him."

"I'm happy for you. The least you can do is give me a lift to the airport." Elizabeth saw the glint of a car on the gravel road amongst the trees.

"I can't do that," Diane said.

Elizabeth spun around and inquired, "Excuse me?"

"Okay," Diane relented, not liking the fire in the immortal's eyes. They got into the silver Saab she had rented, parked a half mile down the road. 

As Diane drove toward Lisbon, Elizabeth commented, "So, this is twice you've shirked your humanity and let Logan get to me. Are you working with him, and that's why you aren't on my side?"

Not only the physical presence of the immortal in her dark car, but the tone of voice she used made Diane extremely nervous, not to mention the fact that she was interfering with immortals, still she had to set the record straight and not have Elizabeth think she was an unfeeling fool. "I'm not on anyone's side. I watch and record. That's my job. Besides, you're under the wrong assumption."

"And what's that?"

"I'm not Logan's watcher anymore. I'm yours." Diane took the silence as a sign that Elizabeth appreciated that fact, and realized that she wasn't the enemy. When Diane took a look at her, she only saw an obscured pattern where the dash lights hit Elizabeth's cheek.

"Why?" Elizabeth just stared ahead, pointing out the turn to take.

When Diane took the turn, she said, "Darrell Foley was killed by Logan. I put in for a transfer. It's a good thing the watchers are chauvinists. They didn't even blink an eye at my requisition. When I suggested I take over for Foley, they granted it. They like women watching women."

Elizabeth hadn't liked Foley, didn't like any watchers for that matter, except Joe. But, in a small, affected voice, Elizabeth asked, "How was he killed?"

Diane only shook the memory away. "It was bad. His battered and broken body was fished out of the East River."

Knowing how Logan had tortured in the past, she didn't have to hear it. She'd seen it. "How long have you been watching me?"

"A couple of weeks. It took a while to find you. When your friend Amy put your apartment on the market, she gave your address here on the paperwork."

"How did you see the paperwork?"

"I... ah..." Diane paused. She shouldn't give out watcher techniques, but said, "I posed as a prospective buyer."

"Do you tap phones, too?"

"Only if there's a threat to watchers. That's a Class 5 level of surveillance."

"Have you been tapping my phones?"

Diane matched Elizabeth's glare, "Why would I have to?"

"Well," Elizabeth paused. "My watcher died, I guess, because of me."

"No, it was because of Logan. Not you."

Even though Elizabeth was going to the airport and did not plan on seeing David, or rather, Methos, again, she was worried because he was worried that someone was after his head. He could be vulnerable because of her and Amy. If Diane found out who she was from playing apartment buyer, who else could have? How could Amy have put her address on the forms? She knew about secrecy, didn't she? Covering your tracks? "Do you have a phone?"

Diane nodded, reached into her pocket for it and handed it to her. Elizabeth called the house. When Methos heard her voice, he pompously said, "I knew you'd call. Come home."

"I only called to tell you... you may want to leave, too. You could be found out there."

"I'm not going anywhere," he stated. Then softened, "Come home."

"I don't think of it as my home anymore. Just watch your head."

She hung up and handed the phone back to Diane. When Diane put it back in her pocket, she asked, "Watch your head? David Sommers is immortal, too?" Diane had never seen Adam Pierson face to face. Had never heard David Sommers' voice. She was under the assumption that they were two different people, and she just found out David was an immortal.

Elizabeth only looked at the lights of Lisbon radiating against the black horizon, watched as all the white lines flow into one at the edge of the hood. The creepy feeling started along her neck, thinking she couldn't protect David, Methos, even when she meant to.

"I wonder why he doesn't have a watcher," Diane thought aloud.

"He doesn't?"

"No. Not that I know of. I haven't seen anyone in the area until Quincy showed up this evening. He's the one who took over Logan. He's used to nasty assignments. At least he gets the pleasure of writing up the final entry for the chronicle."

Elizabeth didn't care at all about what Diane was saying, her only worry was that she had once again made David, Methos, vulnerable. Didn't the watchers know he was immortal? Why was he so paranoid about protecting his head from what seemed to Elizabeth to be shadows? What the hell was going on? Who were those watchers? What kind of records did they keep? "Do me a favor?"

Diane lightly asked her, "Another one? How many are you going to require?"

"Don't use that information. Please? I have to trust you." Elizabeth then lowered her voice and stared at the woman driving the car, "I'm going to trust you, Diane Wentworth. Don't tell anyone David is immortal, okay? Just leave it alone."

"Sure," Diane shrugged. "I'm only a field agent, I'm not a chief. Assigning watchers isn't my job."

When they reached the city streets, Elizabeth finally broke the silence with, "Why don't you find a more dignified one?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I find this 'dignified' work. If watchers didn't exist, no one would know the truth about immortals."

"And that's a bad thing? Logan found me because of Foley, a watcher. I was almost taken tonight because of the watchers. I could have been taken in New York because you and Foley didn't let me know Logan was in the area, that he was hunting. Are you proud of that, or don't you care if we buy it?"

"Of course I care, Elizabeth. It's just beyond my control."

"Maybe you should think of us as flesh and blood, not 'assignments'." Elizabeth hovered close to her and threatened, "If anyone finds out about David, I'll know it came from you. And you know what? Even if it doesn't come from you... I'll come after you. I can watch, too. I can hunt you down and you know what? I can kill you... in any number of a thousand ways I can kill you. I can treat you just like you've treated us."

"I was just doing my job the way I was told to do it."

"Well... you're new job is... to bury the truth about David Sommers... to be quiet. Or I'll quiet you forever. Stop the car."

Diane didn't have to be told twice, not sure if Elizabeth was going to use that gun on her, scared to death. When the car came to a screeching halt, Elizabeth opened the door and got out, slamming the door behind her. Only when she walked down the sidewalk, and turned the corner did Diane drive away, like a bat out of hell.

* * *

**DECEMBER 24, 2000 **

Methos parked the Bizzarrini in it's place after miraculously getting new tail lights installed. They were an old set of taillights, with a little chip in the right one, that had been replaced just before Methos had bought the car, by the set ruined during Logan's quickening . He could live with a chip in one light. He had spent a long day roaming Sintra while the mechanics fixed his car. They wondered how it happened, since only the lights were smashed. That was a pretty tricky car accident. Methos didn't give them an answer.

When he got the car back, he drove home and walked toward the house, felt the buzzes of his friends inside. Duncan and Amanda were going to leave that day, but obviously hadn't yet. Methos was hoping they would have, hoped they didn't plan on sticking around. He just wanted to be left alone for a while. Every look from them was an indictment, for not telling Elizabeth what she should have heard from him first hand. Methos had already written her off. Out of sight, out of mind. That was a very good philosophy that he was going to try once again. But, the night before, he had to get out of bed and change the sheets because he could smell Elizabeth on them and both pillows. 

A car drove up, making Methos wonder whether to run into the house or not. It was a large white van he didn't know. Was it Elizabeth? A gang of immortals wanting revenge for Logan? Someone else? No. It was Antonio and Sofia, with big welcoming smiles on their faces. Didn't they know that the day wasn't a good one? How can people be so happy? They drove to where he was standing, just on the outskirts of the lawn and waved. Antonio said, "Olã! Would you all like to go for a drive with us?"

Sofia said, "It's such a beautiful day, we were going passear a pê. {hiking}" 

Methos looked up at the sky and what do you know? It was a nice, warm, sunny day. Then he saw Amanda come out of the house with a suitcase. She told him, "Good, you're back. You can give us a lift to the airport."

Sofia and Antonio got out of the van. Sofia said to Amanda, who was putting the suitcase in the back of Methos' station wagon, "You're not leaving before Natal, are you? Porquê?"

Amanda looked at Methos. "Things came up." She thought a better idea was to find Elizabeth and spend the holiday with her instead of the grouch who hadn't spoken one civil word to her since Elizabeth walked out.

Duncan came out of the house with another suitcase and a long duffle bag that Methos knew could only contain their swords, wrapped for the plane trip. Good. He wanted to be alone. 

Antonio said to Methos, "Did you see that tempestade {storm} last night? What in the world was that? It looked like it was right here." He noticed some charred bark on the trees in the area.

Methos said, "Oh. Yeah. We were shooting off fireworks... got carried away."

"Are you going to take us to the airport," Duncan asked, after depositing their things in the vehicle. Then he made sure he said, "David."

"Yeah," Methos quietly said.

"Queres vir connosco? {Do you want to come with us?}" The three shook their heads and Duncan politely said, Ê muito amãvel da sua parte, mas não me ê possivel ir. {It's very kind of you, but we have to go.}"

Amanda said, "Thank you for the invitation and thank you again for the wonderful meal last night and your hospitality."

"Oh, we loved having you." Sofia looked around. "Where's Liz?"

"She had to go out of town," Methos offered before the others could say anything.

"Porquê? Tomorrow is Natal."

"Her mother is sick."

"Peço imensa desculpa. [I'm very sorry.] She never mentioned her parents, I assumed they were mortos [dead]."

Duncan really disliked the fact that Methos couldn't talk straight to anyone. "We should get going. Our plane leaves at 3."

Antonio offered, "We're going perto de Lisboa. We can take you."

"You wouldn't mind," Amanda quickly asked. 

"De nada [No problem]. Would you like to ride with us, David?" 

Methos contemplated Antonio's offer, but really didn't want to have anything to do with immortals, premmies, or anything for the moment. "I'll decline. I have things to do."

After the production of transferring their things from the station wagon to the van and saying goodbye to 'David', Duncan whispered to him, "I'll call you when we get to Rio."

"I'll be here."

Duncan thought there were other places he could be, like in New York, which is where Joe and probably Elizabeth was, but held his tongue. 

Methos told him, "Feliz Natal," in much the same way that Han Solo told Luke may the force be with you in Star Wars before the great battle. It came from a place of disbelief, but Duncan was a Christian and it was important to him.

"Thank you," Duncan replied, knowing that from him it was not heart felt, just what people said but appreciating the effort.

"You can stick around if you want," Methos said, suddenly thinking of what being alone might entail.

"Nah," Duncan declined. "We might have to talk."

Methos shrugged, and ran his foot against the gravel, "Doesn't mean I have to listen."

"That's why it wouldn't make any difference. It's my turn to disappear from you."

"Enjoy it, Highlander."

Amanda was already in the van in conversation with Sofia. Methos hoped she wasn't giving his neighbor a play by play of the previous evening, then knew she wouldn't be. When he stepped back from the van that Antonio started up, he waved goodbye to Amanda, she didn't even notice. When they drove away, Methos was left with the remnants of the quickening, his cars, his house, and his unfinished textbook. That's what he decided to tackle to take his mind off the events of the last 24 hours.

* * *

**DECEMBER 31, 2000 **

Methos had enough of writing for one day. It was all that occupied his time since Duncan and Amanda had left after Elizabeth bolted. He walked through the empty house. It was filled with stuff, but not his life. He stayed only because he was sure Elizabeth would come back. He saw the lamp in the living room that he bought from the vendor for her. He hated it. It was ugly. He paid too much for it. It had no significant value, just matched the woodwork in the house and Elizabeth loved it. He noticed it all week, every time he tried to go to sleep without her, after taking up sleeping on the couch instead of in their bed. 

Methos found there was nothing on TV, there was nothing on the radio to hold his attention. Wandering into the bedroom he saw another part of his journal, that he had spread out all over the house, open to various points of his time in Egypt. He scanned the Aramaic script and realized he was well beyond the time he chronicled on those pages in his textbook so he gathered it up, put it in plastic bags and into the box. He'd have to go to Paris again to make sure they stayed safe. Getting down on his knees to pick up all the pages, he saw, almost completely obscured by the dresser, a necklace of Elizabeth's. It must have slipped off the top and she never noticed. 

Methos picked up the golden 'E' on the chain and rubbed it with his fingers, remembered what it looked like around her neck. Then he came back to his senses. To moon over a piece of jewelry, what was he coming to? He opened Elizabeth's top drawer and dropped it in. Out of sight, out of mind. Before he could slam the drawer shut, he saw a dark green silvery finished paper peeking out from under the few items of clothing left in it. He pushed the clothes back and saw that it was a wrapped gift, complete with a gold ribbon. A card read, "To My Dearest David, Feliz Natal!" He hadn't had the chance to give Elizabeth the sapphire bracelet he had bought for her, wondered what she had planned to give him.

He pulled out the wrapped box and shut the drawer. Holding the package in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, he shook it. It's contents shifted. He waited a moment to try to figure out what could be inside, but finally gave up and ripped open the package. There was a plethora of things wrapped in tissue paper. He open one and saw a gold key ring with an inscription, "Obey The Speed Limit" on one side and "Please" on the other. In another wrapping was a clip-on bow tie that made Methos laugh out loud, remembering the trouble they went through after Amy's wedding, their first night together. Another was a picture of himself in a frame. In the photograph, he was standing at the drop off at the back edge of their property, looking off at the view. The framing of him and one of the trees next to his shoulder and the view was wonderful. She was a good photographer, he wondered when she took it. He didn't have a clue.

The last tissue-wrapped bundle was an ankh. A crux ansate with a loop at the top, used as a sacred emblem, symbolizing enduring life. It was heavy. Too heavy to wear on a chain around the neck, but Methos appreciated her gift. How was she to know he already had a multitude of ankh's and good luck charms from virtually every culture on the planet locked up in storage lockers around the world. The cross he held in his hands, inspecting, was embedded with jewels, and had to be very expensive.

He spent the next hour transferring his keys to his new key ring, finding the right spot in the living room for the photograph, clipped the tie on his t-shirt and put the ankh in the safe. After he was done, Methos was lonely as hell, he tried to reach a friendly voice. He couldn't get a hold of Duncan in Rio, at the number he called from and said he could be reached at if he did want to talk, eventually. That Highlander... sometimes Duncan knew what he wanted before he did. But, he wasn't there.

Methos called Joe. To his surprise, Joe was short with him. When Methos asked why, Joe said he was on his way to the club to perform, but he knew that wasn't it. "What is wrong, Joe?"

"Nothing. Everything's the way you want it."

"I take it you heard from Liz."

"She's back in town." They both let that sink in. Joe drawled, "Happy New Year, buddy."

How Joe said it, without any sign of warmth, Methos said, "You too," but added, "Have you seen her?"

"Not yet, but Amy has. I know where she lives. Do you want to know?"

"No," he said and abruptly hung up, not liking Joe's tone or the fact that the conversation turned to Elizabeth so suddenly. Weren't he and Joe friends B.E., Before Elizabeth? There had to be loads to talk about. As he was pacing to get the cobwebs out of his head, he felt bad. He didn't ask how Joe's health was progressing. That's why he called in the first place. That, and just for someone to talk to. Anyone. Antonio told him to come and spend New Year's with them, but he'd rather be alone if he wasn't going to kiss Elizabeth a happy new, true millennium.

He knocked over a chair in frustration, every thought went back to Elizabeth. He was a man about the world. He was 5000 years old and had loved and lost loads of women _and_ men. Why was losing Elizabeth so damn hard? She was an immortal, he should just stay away from them. From her. He noticed the TV on mute. The screen showed the streets of Lisbon. Colorful. Streamers. People laughing and cheering. Champagne flowing. New Years in the city. Everyone seemed so happy, carefree. He hadn't felt like that since Elizabeth got into Wentworth's car. 

He did it again! He had to stop it. He had thoughts B.E.! The anger of her leaving him faded when he walked out to the courtyard and took a deep breath of fresh air. If he'd only been truthful with her, she'd still be there. They'd continue with their lives. Another regret. He remembered their chat in the car on their way to Philly. He said they'd be together to celebrate the true new millennium. She didn't seem to believe him. He truly thought they would. 

Elizabeth was an immortal and he couldn't get over the fact that he missed her in his life, not weary of being in such close proximity to another like himself. The pangs were strong in his stomach. He missed her. Her laugh. Her smile. Her smell. How she loved him. Methos focused on her stabs at cooking. That he didn't miss. Not at all. Her impetuous attitude, that said waiting for something worthwhile was a foreign concept. He didn't miss that, either.

When the phone rang, Methos bolted back into the house and caught it on the second ring and said, "No, Joe. I'm not interested. Don't push." He wanted to talk to someone, but not about Elizabeth, but he was glad he called back.

There was a pause on the line, then finally a voice said, "This isn't Joe. Hi."

He surprised himself by taking a deep relieved breath just from hearing her voice. "Liz?" 

Elizabeth sat in her new, less expensive, which meant small, apartment in New York City. She leaned forward on the couch and put her hand to her forehead, the sound of his voice killed her, just as she knew it would. His accent was like a jolt of electricity pulsing through her, she missed him so much. At least he was home. He hadn't found anyone else to spend the night with. The true eve of the new millennium. It was the night that she considered theirs. 

When she didn't say anything, Methos sat on the chair at the dining table. The teak clock on the sideboard that they bought three days before she left him ticked. It was 11:55. Her timing was all right, he said, "Why aren't you here?"

There were pictures of Methos spread out on the floor at her feet. Thank goodness she had packed the camera and used film when she so carelessly walked away from the only true happiness she'd known for decades. When she developed the film in the only closet in the place, turned into a darkroom, she about fainted when the entire roll was of that man.

"Why did you call if you aren't going to talk to me?" Methos went to the fridge for a beer. But then, saw a bottle of wine in the back of the fridge and opened it.

"I didn't expect you to answer the phone, to be quite honest."

"Why wouldn't I? I live here."

"I didn't expect you to still be living there."

He poured the port into a glass and teased her, "So, why did you call?"

"It was the only place on this earth I knew there was a chance of finding you." She didn't know anywhere he lived except Sintra. That he was still there comforted her, but once again she realized that she didn't know anything about the man.

"That's why I'm still living here. When are you coming home?"

"David, I just wanted to wish you Happy New Millennium. We said we'd spend it together."

"I remember," Methos sat back at the table, getting ready to ride her about the reason they weren't spending it together, she walked out. He didn't want to start it, he was happy she called. He heard the ticking of the clock. "It's... what... around 6 there?"

"How do you know where I am?"

"I just talked to Joe."

"It's cold here. I feel sorry for the people who are gathered in Times Square already."

"I don't need a weather report, Liz."

"Okay."

When he could only hear her breathing, and nothing else, he leaned forward on the table and said, "I wasn't that awful, not telling you. We were doing quite well."

"But it would have been nice if you didn't have to watch everything you said to me, wouldn't it? To have to tell everyone not to let on what they already knew, but I had no clue about. I still don't. I don't know...," her voice trailed off. Methos was about to fill in the rest of the sentence with she did know about him, what was important, but she continued in a stronger, hurt voice, "Do you know how that made me feel? It made me feel like an accessory, not a lover, not even a friend. I felt **_used_**__. In all your life, didn't you ever feel that way, and were offended by it?"

Methos certainly had to agree with that. The clock started to dong the hour of midnight. Methos took a long sip of his wine, sat back, just listening to the hour toll and the breathing of Elizabeth over the phone. She said, "By the sound of it, it's midnight there."

"Yep."

"Happy New Year, David." 

"Happy New Millennium, Lizzie." He sat up and started to explain, "I figured that--."

"You figured wrong," she cut him off. "I thought we were equals, that we shared everything. I 'figured' you were hiding something, but I didn't think it was information as basic as your name, even though you changed it right in front of me. I should have realized."

"We can start over, Liz. I can catch a flight and be in New York before daybreak."

"No. I don't know how to handle you. Just... Happy New Year." With that, she hung up. Methos sat wondering if what he impulsively suggested was actually what he wanted. The only people he dropped everything for in the last decade were Duncan, Joe and Alexa. That impulse, to take off after her, and running it by her first, was something that came out of the blue, surprising him. As he poured the wine into a stem glass that Elizabeth had bought, it dawned on him that she was important, and she didn't comprehend it at all.

* * *

**JANUARY 24, 2001 **

Methos sat back from the computer. He was done for a while. He needed to get out. Needed to be with people, if only to remember he was still on the planet Earth. It had been over a week since he talked to anyone, focusing his energy on the building of the pyramid at Giza. When the phone rang, it startled him, as he hadn't heard it ring for days. 

Antonio called to ask where he and Elizabeth had been and to come over for supper. Methos' trepidation about Antonio's premmie status had waned in the last month and he did enjoy that man as a friend. The offer did sound good. He hadn't eaten anything that consisted of the four major food groups since that damned Saturday night Amanda let the cat out of the bag.

He gladly accepted. After dinner, he was glad he had. The only downside of the evening was their questions about where Elizabeth was. When Methos told them she was with her family, Sofia wanted to know where so she could call her. "Oh, sorry. I don't have it with me right now."

After assuring her that he'd give her the phone number tomorrow, he bade them goodnight and thanked them for the meal. They made sure to give him leftovers, which he was happy to receive. After parking the Bizzarrini in the drive, he turned it off and stared at the empty, dark house. He didn't want to walk into an empty house once again, so he started the car and drove.

In Lisbon, he slowed down to stop at the bar he and Elizabeth had frequented and she thought briefly of buying. When he remembered that, he drove off again. Why did he talk her out of it? If she had bought the bar, she wouldn't be on the other side of the ocean. He kept driving, then stopped at the next bar he saw. It held no memories for him, no reason to make him feel anything but glad to have a nice cold beer.

As soon as he situated himself at the bar and ordered a draft, he felt a buzz. Methos tightened and looked toward the door. His focus fell on a smiling Spanish gent Methos knew some years back. It seemed like yesterday. Methos smiled in return.

* * *

**########################  
PAMPLONA, SPAIN 1932  
#########################**

Roberto Camano and Methos were laughing as they sat in the bar where they were the only customers. Roberto slapped him on the back and said, "It's a good thing I know the owner, Marcus! We would have actually had to get some sleep after the bars closed!"

Methos lifted his glass of rum on the rocks, the rocks melted long ago, and swallowed the last of it. Bed seemed like a very good idea, indeed. If he could only remember where he was staying. He giggled for no good reason but that he was tired and happily spent the entire night shooting the breeze with Roberto. And drinking heavily. Methos did enjoy the taste of rum, smooth, vibrant, it was his favorite drink. The only thing Methos didn't realize was that it really clouded his mind, when it would be most advantageous to keep a clear head.

Only when Methos stretched and rubbed his eyes did he hear the crowds of people that had gathered on the streets. Roberto pounded him on the back again, making Methos register that it hurt and Roberto had done it one too many times. "Time to go, my friend. The bulls await!"

"No, the bulls can wait until tomorrow," Methos shrugged, not remembering that Roberto had entered them in the annual running. With Roberto, you didn't know half of what he talked about, but he was a drinking buddy and the bar had a stash of rum that was 'to die for'. That's all Methos required at the moment. Well, at the moment, what he would like is a lift back to the hotel... if he could just remember which one he had checked into.

"It **_is_**__ tomorrow!" Roberto walked over to the window and pulled open the shades. The closed sign was visible through the bright light that filled the room making Methos slam his eyes shut. "Ah, show some spirit, my friend. Come on!"

He grabbed Methos' arm and charged out of the bar with him. As soon as Roberto flung open the door, the sun, noise, smells raced to Methos, causing him to stumble. Viral men were gathered on the streets. Old men, young boys, along with women of all ages were gathered on the sidewalks, hung out of building windows.

"Hey, I forgot all about this, Roberto," Methos said. "I didn't think you were serious! I'm going back to the hotel."

"Too late!" Roberto said, and pointed at the far end of the street where they lifted the gates and released the bulls into the crowd.

Men started running from them, down the street, while the onlookers shouted their encouragement. Methos was pelted by the men rushing past, felt Roberto's hand on his arm again. He pulled free and rushed to the side of the street as a bull charged past. The women pushed Methos back onto the street, making him land on his butt. Another bull with sticks flaring, snorting, charged right toward him.

Roberto got Methos to his feet and laughed as he ran with him, the bull acting as if they had targets on their backs. They both ran around the corner, with the bull still at their heels. Methos yelled as he kept his feet moving as fast as they could go, "What am I doing? Why am I doing this?!"

Roberto yelled, "It will make you a man!"

"I **_am_**__ a man! I want to continue being a **_living_**__ man!"

Roberto only laughed and turned another corner. They caught up to slower men in front of them. The crowds of people hadn't thinned even though they were blocks away from the pens the bulls were released from. Roberto zoomed by the slow men in front of them, but Methos got caught among them. One of them wouldn't let go of his shoulder after he latched on, scared to death. Methos tried to yank him off and keep clear of the bull that seemed to come right for him. When Methos pushed the man toward the bull, the bull charged by him, keeping Methos and his red shirt in his scope. 

Methos looked down at the color of his shirt and vaguely remembered borrowing it from Roberto. That bastard! He ran between the crowds and slower men who didn't seem to be targets. The pesky bull barreled ahead with Methos his entire focus, not noticing anyone else dressed in subdued white, yellow, black and blue. Methos looked back in time to see the nostrils flair on the beast. He realized the other men who were in this 'game' had spears in their hands. Why didn't he have a spear!? Where's his sword?! _How in the world did I forget to carry my sword?_ Methos yelled at himself. Then realized it was the rum. It clouded his judgment. In that moment, Methos decided never to drink rum again! 

Methos' long life leading up to that moment in time came back to him, but he couldn't remember how he ended up in Pamplona and meeting Roberto. He'd kept himself too full of rum the last couple of weeks and the recent memory had faded. Life was full of twists and turns. Methos had obviously picked a wrong turn, and if he ever got out of this predicament with his head, he would never, ever set foot in Pamplona again.

He couldn't get off the street as the people were cheering them on. Methos couldn't tell if the cheers were for him or the bull. _I have to make tracks, fast! Why did I drink so much? I have to go to the bathroom_!

Methos used slower men as a diversion for the bull by pushing them behind him as he ran forward for his life, but the bull had zeroed in on Methos' red shirt, and that was going to be his prize! Methos saw Roberto's flopping black hair a couple of men in front of him and he grabbed for him. Roberto turned another corner. The crowd was thinning out on the street and Methos got onto the sidewalk and still ran, cursing Roberto.

The roar of the bull got really close and Methos turned to see it rear up and leap. Methos fell to the sidewalk, the bulls horn square in his back. His body lifted when the bull ripped his horn out of him. It reared up and pounced down, flattening Methos, making him lose the air supply in his punctured lungs. The roar of the crowd... the screams that came from something finally happening... the bull grunted and flopped on the ground next to Methos. Spears were sticking out of its body. The animal and Methos regarded each other as the sounds and lights went out for both of them.

When Methos revived, he was lying on his back. On a couch. With a blanket covering him. He couldn't figure out where he was. Then heard Roberto laugh. That laugh seared into him, just as the bull's horns had. He hiked himself up on his elbow and regarded his friend standing by the window of his house. Roberto walked to him with a glass of the hair of the dog that bit Methos. "Not too fast on your feet, Marcus? I didn't think you'd ever come back." 

Methos gratefully took the rum, reflex, then remembering his promise to himself, he set it on the floor. The movement caused him to feel a tightness in his back where the bull had his way with him, so he waited for the healing to finish. 

"Come on, old friend. Was it too much for your 400 year old heart?" Roberto sat in a chair by the couch and said, "I may be only 128, but I outran a bull!"

Methos seethed, _Kids_! _They have no respect for their elders_. "How in the world can you outrun a bull on a street full of fools after drinking a couple of bottles of rum and not sleeping? Please explain **_that_**__!"

"I did." Roberto laughed harder. "He got you pretty good." He handed Methos a beer and said, "This should make you feel better!"

"I think you owe me more than that! If that horn was just a little higher, there could have been a quickening, are you **_insane_**__!? How would the populous have reacted to that?" Marcus only laughed his deep, hearty laugh. After a pause, Methos joined in.

* * *

**JANUARY 24, 2001  
LISBON**

The years since had softened Methos and the memory of Roberto's friendship and grand spirit made him smile as Roberto made his way past the people standing around to him at the bar. "Marcus!," he said as he sat and pounded Methos on the back. "I didn't think we'd ever cross paths again."

"I'm still smarting from that bull." He didn't say, 'and the slaps on the back'. Roberto hadn't gotten less jovial over the years.

"Oh, knock it off. You are not. Let my buy you that drink."

"Don't let me stop you."

Roberto got the bartender's attention and raise two fingers, "Rum on the rocks."

Methos said, "Nope, beer."

After four more, they laughed as they made their way to their cars. It was good to just laugh at the old times. The way Roberto described his imbibing, it was funny, after 60 years. "The look on your face... I haven't forgotten it! It was like you'd been fighting all your life and you were going to buy it from a **_bull_**__!"

They stopped and smelled the fresh, crisp air. Roberto stopped and quietly said, "Marcus..."

Methos did a double take. Roberto had never used that low a decibel since he'd met him. Roberto swished at the ground with his foot. This was definitely not the usual demeanor of that man. Methos asked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Roberto looked in both directions for anyone who could hear. He pulled Methos' arm and led him off the beaten track. "What is it?" Methos pulled his arm back. That man never thought to ask people to come with him, just steered them and it was extremely annoying.

"I don't want this to get around," Roberto said. Looking around. They seemed to be in a secluded area. Roberto looked at the ground, and Methos didn't like his demeanor, crestfallen, all of a sudden. 

When Methos approached to comfort him, Roberto drew his sword and swished it in front of Methos, making him jump back. "What is this about?!" 

"I challenge you, my friend," he said, but when he said 'friend', it wasn't friendly. 

Methos was furious! You can't trust anyone. "What's this about?"

Roberto kept his sword out in front of him, ready to swing. "You bedded Marita."

Methos swiftly drew his Ivanhoe and knocked Roberto's sword away. "Who's Marita?"

"My woman!" Roberto lunged, Methos pushed him back. "She was **_pure_**__. You soiled her!"

"Hold on now," Methos said, both his sword and hand out, trying to remember. "Oh," he finally did. "Long black hair, wide eyes, dimples, beauty mark on her temple?" He must have guessed right, Roberto's sword slashed at him. "How long ago was that? You can't still be angry about that."

Roberto only answered with another swish of his sword to Methos' head. Methos ducked and held his sword against Roberto's. "No, I didn't. Roberto! She was **_already_**__ soiled!" 

"You're lying!"

Methos was, but that was beside the point. Marita, if that's who he was thinking of, was a ready, willing and able participant. It was only after the deed was done that he found out she was betrothed to Roberto and that's what made Methos skip town. The sword swung. Methos defended, then swung out offensively. "We're **_friends_**__!"

"Not on your life!"

When Roberto swung again, Methos ran. Roberto thundered after him. Methos felt the swish behind him. If that tree wasn't there, he wouldn't have been able to turn around to talk to the man without being sliced. "Roberto, don't push me!"

Roberto took his sword out of the tree trunk and held it out, "Put up your sword."

Methos stepped back, shaking his head. "Roberto... think about this! I'll take you!"

Roberto didn't think, he lunged. It only took two strokes for Methos to relieve Roberto of his head. The quickening of his friend's spirit didn't phase him, he didn't want to take him, but was left with no choice.

* * *

**TUESDAY FEBRUARY 13, 2001  
NEW YORK CITY**

Methos walked out of the skyscraper and pulled his coat close around him for protection from the cold wind that swirled through the manmade canyon that was the bustling city. The dress shirt and tie he wore for the occasion of meeting with his publisher rubbed on his neck so Methos untied it and opened the first couple of buttons. The first thing he'd have to do is go back to the hotel and change before looking in on Joe. His publisher, Martin, seemed pleased that his textbook was at last finished. While Methos worked furiously to finish it after the Roberto fiasco, Martin had a suggestion in an email, "It's in a wrong tone, David. It should be more of a textbook, not a novel."

So, Methos rewrote, tried to keep the impact, but changed the tone. He wasn't happy with it, but it was better than what the students had to deal with. The second draft was accepted with glee. They'll edit and print it. Hopefully, it would be ready for fall semester.

He walked by his first apartment in the city and saw an old neighbor, the police chief. Quickly skedaddled before the chief could figure out where the buzz came from. Then walked by Elizabeth's and Amy's old building. He just walked by, didn't even look up at the doorway. Saw the orange building that Elizabeth's ex husband lived in. Did she go back to him? After scolding himself for dwelling too much on that woman, he walked, almost ran, to Joe's door.

When Joe answered, Methos smiled and stated, "You're out of the chair."

"A long time ago, how do you like the new legs?" Joe stepped back so he could see them. "Top of the line. I'm doing good."

Methos walked in and grabbed his friend into a hug. It was good to see a familiar face with no hint of danger. They sat at the dining table when Methos asked, "Does your good humor have something to do with a lady by the name of Caroline?"

"You didn't notice the redecorating? She's taken over." The juvenile, happy smile on Joe's face warmed Methos like nothing had in months. Joe put two mugs of coffee on the table and said, "Liz stopped in to see me play last month."

Methos drank his coffee, shook his head that the first thing out of Joe's mouth was news about Elizabeth. He knew then that they were good friends. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. What?" Joe put the pot back on the burner of the coffee maker. 

There was silence. Grudgingly, Methos mumbled, "What is she up to?"

"She wouldn't say," Joe said as he heavily sat at the table. "Only that NYU didn't want her back after she abruptly left. What's your version of what happened?"

"What did **_she_**__ say?"

"That you got tired of her and kicked her out," Joe's eyes twinkled, knowing that could only be a half truth at best. He'd watched Methos for years with people, women. The talks on the phone over the past five months was a dead giveaway to what Methos felt. Methos had only talked as enthusiastically about a person in his life once before, Alexa. If Alexa was any gauge of Methos' possessiveness and how focused he could be, there wasn't any way in the world he would have abruptly gotten tired of Elizabeth.

When Methos just drank the coffee, Joe offered, "Liz also said she took care of Logan. That's what she really wanted to tell me. So I wouldn't worry about being used in the future. But I had already talked to Mac by that time."

"So you have his version of the events."

"Yup," Joe said and sipped his coffee. Methos glared at Joe, wondering about all that was said behind his back, shook his head at the gossip grapevine that swirled around him. Joe continued, "Diane Wentworth isn't Liz's watcher anymore. In fact, she resigned all together."

Methos didn't know Wentworth was Elizabeth's watcher. When did that happen? But he didn't really care in the long run. He only shrugged, "Life goes on."

Joe had a couple of doozies to lay on the old man and wondered if he should. He kind of enjoyed knowing one of those bombshells while the old man was clueless. The other... Methos should know. Since Methos walked into his apartment, he hadn't given any kind of emotional showing after the hug hello. Joe tested the waters, "Liz didn't come to the club alone."

"Tall, dark, handsome?"

"Tall, dark... beautiful."

"A woman?"

Methos had asked so nonchalantly, Joe wasn't sure if his information would affect him at all, so he said, "Cassandra."

Joe was a little startled when Methos tipped his head back and laughed uproariously, "That's perfect." Methos got a chill. Was Elizabeth so angry at him that she was researching Methos and met up with Cassandra and the two of them would finish him off? "How in the **_hell_**__ did **_they_**__ meet?"

Joe didn't like the accusing manner Methos displayed. One second he was laughing, the next, his glare was strong and accusing. "It wasn't me. Cassandra owns an herbal shop near Liz's new apartment. I guess Cassandra has lived here in New York for years. They sensed each other, got to talking. You know, that's what women do."

"Talk about what?"

"About who, you mean? I don't know," Joe shrugged. "Girl stuff. I don't think Liz's made the connection." Joe looked at him and tried to imagine all Methos had done to the multitudes, to Cassandra, then put it out of his head. He knew the man who was his friend, who saved his daughter's life from Walker, walked her up the aisle, protected them all during the week of the wedding. Two, three thousand years ago didn't matter to Joe one bit. "Cassandra pretended that she didn't know me when Liz introduced us." 

Another immortal was lying to Elizabeth... but he was grateful, Methos lore didn't need to be spread. Cassandra admitting she knew Joe could only have Elizabeth inquire as to why, and then it all might slip out. At least that's what Methos hoped was the reason. Figuring out Cassandra would be a full time job, and he didn't like to think about her at all. He just hoped she was happy and had gotten on with her life. Could Cassandra not telling Elizabeth that she knew Joe be her protecting herself? Maybe she wasn't close to Elizabeth, so dredging up talk of horsemen, slavery, butchery... wasn't a topic of conversation? Or was she protecting Methos? She didn't talk about him and his brothers to anyone?

The talk with Elizabeth on New Year's Eve came back to him. Had she found out about him before she called? The hurt tone of her voice was achingly clear and the words, _To have to tell everyone not to let on what they already knew, but I had no clue about. Do you know how that made me feel? It made me feel like an accessory, not a lover, not even a friend. I felt used_ played over and over in his head. 

Methos sit in silence, absently rubbing his fingernail on the edge of the table. Joe finally asked, "What are you going to do?"

Methos shook off her words and tried to sound like he didn't have a care in the world, life goes on, when he said, "I'm off to Seacouver. I have properties to check on."

Joe matched his nod with his own, but with prying eyes that made Methos a little more than irritated. If there was one person on this earth that he couldn't fool, it was Joe Dawson. Methos changed the subject, "I finished my book."

"Good. But, I meant what are you going to do about Liz."

"I kicked her out, didn't you hear?" Methos downed the rest of his coffee and stood. "Got to go."

He sauntered to the door and opened it when Joe said, "Do you want Liz's address?"

"No. Catch you later." Methos walked out the door and to the elevator, pushed the down button, waited. Then slammed his hand against the wall and trudged back into Joe's apartment. "Yes."

Joe was at the door, smiling. That only irritated Methos more. The little pink post-it note was in his hand and Methos snatched it and walked back down the hall. He could feel Joe staring at him, and was sure he was inwardly laughing, Methos didn't want to be on display, so he took the stairs.

* * *

**ELIZABETH'S STUDIO APARTMENT **

"It's too much! I only have to learn the dates," Horton Fritsch III told Elizabeth as they sat at the kitchen table. "Why don't you just tell me the dates?" Elizabeth tightened, feeling a buzz in the area. Even Horton noticed the change in her demeanor, all of a sudden scared. "What's wrong with you?"

Was that Cassandra? Elizabeth told her when she left work at the Herbal Shop that afternoon that they'd meet back at the store at 6. Elizabeth went to the door and looked through the peephole. Her shoulders slumped and she tried to control a tingle at the same time. She mumbled to herself, "How'd he get in the building?"

Methos rang the doorbell. Horton said, "How did you know there was someone there?"

"Horton," she said to the rich, 17 year old, spoiled brat. "Get back to reading."

"Just give me the Cliff Notes version."

"Do you want to learn?"

"No, I just want to pass. I won't get my car keys back unless I do. That's what my father hired you for." The doorbell rang again. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Read," she told him, then opened the door. Methos smiled, saw the young man at the table. Elizabeth was surprised she was able to get words out when she saw David face to face because he knocked the wind out of her, "I'm kind of busy right now," then cringed when she realized what words she chose to speak. She didn't want him there. It was out of the blue. Like his buzz, his presence was something she had to prepare for.

Methos looked at her, hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing sweats, could smell her from his place in the hallway. "I can wait," he lightly said.

"Whatever." She shut the door on him.

She sat back at the table with Horton. "Good, I paid for this two hours. There's one thing I just don't understand."

_One thing_, she wondered. "What is it?"

"Why did they have to use the Rosetta Stone to decipher the hieroglyphics? I mean, didn't someone already know how to read them in Egypt?"

She felt David's buzz fade, and was suddenly mortified by her action. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach both from the surprise of his appearance and the abrupt, mean attitude she threw at him. Horton interrupted her thoughts, "Someone had to know." 

"It was a dead language, Horton."

"How can a language die out?"

"Lack of communication," she muttered, trying to get rid of the warm feeling she developed being so close to that irritating mystery man again. "Shit..." She bolted out of the apartment. Hoping her bitchiness didn't make it impossible.

She looked both ways down the street for any sign of him. She ran to the left, felt the buzz. Hoped it was David, or Cassandra, not someone else, she didn't have her sword with her. The buzz got more clear, not skittering in and out as she was well within the immortals' range the more she ran down the street. She had to be heading in the right direction. Then she saw him trotting down the steps to a subway station. She yelled, "**_David_**__!" He didn't turn around, just kept walking. "**_Adam_**__!" Had he changed his name again? She didn't even know what to call him. 

Methos was pissed about the reception at her apartment. Why had he mooned for months over her when she could treat him that way? He just kept on walking, even though he felt her buzz and heard her call after him. That she didn't use his real name was confusing. She called him everything else, even Matthew. _Why didn't she try Methos_? He wanted her to. But then, came to his senses, they were in a public place. Only Amanda would irritatingly throw his name around in public.

Elizabeth reached him and grabbed his arm at the base of the stairs just as he was going to walk through the turnstile. "I'm so sorry about that. You never cease to amaze me."

Only then did he stop, turn around, look at her. "Okay."

She dropped her grip and looked him over. He seemed the same, looked the same, dressed the same, the same David she fell for. "What name are you going by these days?"

"David."

The pit of her stomach rumbled again from the accent of his voice. God, how she missed it. "I do have another half hour with that kid, but I'd like to talk."

"I'll be by at 7."

"I was supposed to meet a friend at 6."

"You have a decision to make then," he told her and walked down the subway platform, felt her buzz fade. Was it Cassandra she was supposed to meet? How much did she know? How she put up walls... but she didn't pull a sword. Did she know about Methos? About Death? Should he just get the hell out of town?

He couldn't just leave. For one thing, he liked to know what people knew. If Cassandra had been talking about him, he needed to know if he had yet another enemy in Elizabeth to watch out for in the future. And, secondly he had to make sure Cassandra didn't talk about him. If Elizabeth didn't know, was just still hurt about his lack of forthright information, he could deal with that. Just take her somewhere far away from Cassandra, back to Portugal and live.

* * *

**7:13 PM **

Elizabeth looked out the window and wondered if she had driven David away for good. He made the effort to see her, and slamming the door in his face with '_I'm busy_.' was just an eloquent way to spit in the face She looked at her insignificant apartment and was embarrassed. The dive she was living in was all she could comfortably afford without having to worry about where the rent money was coming from. It was also something she didn't really want David to see, since he was so free with money he had to have a lot of it. When she looked at her wrist watch, she realized David was late, and came to the realization that she had in fact driven him away. She was ready to write him off and see if she could apologize to Cassandra for canceling on her when she felt a buzz. 

She took a nervous look around, the apartment was as clean as it was going to be, nothing was on the floor. It wasn't really furnished for that matter, most of her things were still in the storage garage, she had only taken the couch, bed, radio, TV and a few tables. After the door bell rang, she opened the door and saw a bouquet of flowers that brought a smile to her face. "Daisies? Where did you find daisies in February?"

"It took work," he gave them to her.

"They're my favorite flower," she said as she smelled them. "So light, simple, happy."

"I know," Methos said, evaluating every motion she made, to see if she was wise to his past or not.

"How?"

Elizabeth smiled as she smelled them. That was a good sign, no slamming of the door, no grabbing her sword. Methos really wanted her back and fidgeted with the package in his hand behind his back. He came prepared for anything, but mostly to get her back. "Are you going to come out here, or should I go in there?"

"Oh, sorry," she embarrassingly stepped back to allow him entrance. "Thank you for these. You must have put some work into it."

"You're welcome." He gave her a wrapped box, topped with a ribbon. He had decided to give it to her that night, instead of waiting until the world would give their Valentine's Day gifts the next day. He figured it would help break the barrier between them that appeared to be solid when she called on New Year's and also earlier that day. "This is for you, too."

"What's this?"

"You are supposed to open gifts, not just ask what they are." Methos shut the door behind him. Elizabeth juggled the gift and flowers in her arms while trying to make sure to latch the locks. Methos stepped aside and secured the three locks on her door. What was she doing living in such a dangerous neighborhood? He explained, "It's something very important and it explains a lot about me."

Methos walked into the living room and scanned the dwelling in which she lived. She obviously hadn't had the time to go wild with the decorations. Elizabeth placed the flowers on the floor by the couch and sat to unwrap the present. Inside, wrapped in acid-free tissue paper, was a very old batch of papers with pieces of leather passing for a cover on both sides. Twine was looped through holes on the edge of the pages. About 2 inches thick. She opened the leather flap. It was a different one from the one she accidently saw while moving into the house outside of Sintra. "Can you just give away library property?"

Methos sat next to her on the couch and stated the truth, "That's mine." He had decided that if he could trust her, if there was no sign of malice from anything Cassandra might have told her, that he would tell her most of his life, not all, but most of it. His journal was the perfect opportunity to properly introduce himself to her. 

She saw that his eyes didn't show any sign of folly. He wasn't kidding. She opened the journal. It was in a different language, one she did not recognize. He said, "It's Aramaic."

"I can't read it. I know French and Spanish, a little Portuguese, but this may as well be Greek."

"You know French?"

"Enough to order dinner, get around town, if I ever get back to France."

"You were in France? You never told me." 

She hiked an eyebrow, "Oh... did I leave something out? During World War II... the War to End All Wars... that didn't end all wars." The war where she met Victor, one of the many wounded soldiers she helped patch up.

Methos rubbed his finger on the journal page that explained his close relationship with his teacher. He appreciated how gently she handled it. The journal was the second generation copy, but was still extremely old. "I'll translate it for you. Then, when we've finished that one, we can start on the next one."

She closed the journal and handed it back to him. "Thank you for the flowers. I really appreciate them. They're beautiful. But... I don't want this."

Why not? Methos tried to figure out why. "It's my past that was so important to you."

"Not anymore," she said, hoping he didn't take it the wrong way, but she was so hurt. She explained, "I don't ask questions anymore. I don't answer any. So, you don't have to do this. If you want to spend time with me, that's..." She smiled, searching for the right word, but could only come up with "Amazing. I've missed you. But there will be no strings, no broken promises or disappointments."

Methos was now sure she hadn't heard anything from Cassandra, but her attitude hurt him. "Liz, I want you to know about me."

Her smile turned sad, "You had months to accomplish that, David." She was going to correct herself and say Methos, but Methos wasn't who she knew. They hadn't even been introduced. "It's okay. I won't expect anything from you, and you can't expect anything in return. In fact, I didn't even expect you to show up tonight, but I put off my friend anyway hoping like hell you would."

He wouldn't take the journal back, so she placed it on his hands, in his lap and stood. Distance from him would be better. That close to him, side by side... it was just too close. "Do you want something to drink? A beer?"

"No," he said as he slowly, disappointedly put his journal back in the box. 

"Oh," she lightly chuckled. "Did you go to rehab lately?"

He smiled, "I believe that's a question."

"So sue me," she shrugged, watched him delicately put the pages in the box, along with the wrapping paper and put the cover back on. She knew the contents of that journal were very important to him and she really wanted to find out what it said, but it was too late. Her life had revolved around him for the few months they were together and after getting some space and thinking about how she blindly turned her life over to him... well, she couldn't do that again. Not with anyone. It would only cause her pain.

David looked almost dejected, staring at the stain from the last tenant she could never get out of the carpeting that the landlord wasn't in the mood to replace. She had to get David out of there. Quick. "Here's another question." Methos looked up at her. "Joe's performing a farewell concert at the English tonight. Do you want to go? Caroline will be there. You'll like her."

"Farewell?" Joe didn't mention anything about it to him earlier.

"Yeah, farewell to New York, I think he said he was going on tour with his CD."

Joe could have at least mentioned that little detail while Methos was at his apartment. No, all Joe wanted to talk about was Cassandra and Elizabeth. He asked her, "Don't you want to talk?"

"No... that might... back you into a corner. Let's just have fun."

* * *

**STREET**

The wind was brisk but instead of hailing a cab, Methos and Elizabeth walked along the sidewalk with the bulk of the population of the city to get fresh air. They looked at everything but each other. Finally, to make conversation, and more importantly, to find out her reaction, Methos said, "I'm in town because I finished the textbook."

"That's great," she genuinely smiled for the first time since receiving the daisies. "I can't wait to read it."

That was a good reaction. He smiled, "I just dropped it off at the publisher. But I'm sure I could pull some strings and get you a signed copy."

"I'd like that. I'm happy for you. I'll have to buy you a beer to celebrate."

"I was thinking of taking you to Egypt, show you around." When she fell silent, only looked at the squares of the sidewalk as they past each one, he asked, "Have you been ever there?"

"Nope." His offer was thrilling, as thrilling as the idea that he still wanted something to do with her. She couldn't believe it, but she couldn't be with someone she didn't know, someone who was a little scary. He had such a pull on her, his force field was intoxicating. She had to be strong.

"You cut your hair," Methos commented, changing the subject.

She was surprised he noticed. "Just a little. You did, too. I liked it longer."

"It curls up," he winced, grabbing at the hair behind his ear.

"I know. That's one of the few things about you I know for certain. Your hair waves when it gets longer."

Abruptly, he nudged her into an alley and against a wall. "You know more than you think about me," he strongly whispered. Her eyes were wide, her mouth tight, as if she was scared. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to hurt you. You already know what's important. I love you."

When he held her face and he kissed her, shocks of electricity went through her body. Methos rolled his face so their foreheads were touching and he could see her eyes. They were closed, clenched, starting to tear up. He tightly smiled, "The least you can do is touch me."

"You scare the hell out of me."

"Why?" That was the last thing he expected her to say.

"I trusted you. You couldn't trust me. I thought I knew you. It turned out I didn't. I don't know the real you, just the one you... let me in on."

"I've been trying to start telling you. Let me."

"Why now?"

"Because I miss you. I spent time with you and you made me happy." When he said that, it was as if his gut was split open, his innards exposed. He didn't think he'd have that reaction, but he needed her, a partner to go through life with, and she had passed all the tests. "It's a terrible thing, but people only realize what they have after they've lost it. I don't want to lose you. I do trust you. I love you, Lizzie. I'm rapping on the door, so let me in."

She couldn't think of a thing to say, just felt his energy, something she missed so much. She cried out as she pulled him into a hug. He held her, kissed her head and wiped at her tears. "Come on," he said, leading her back in the opposite direction from the English.

  
  


******CONTINUED** in Chapter Eight - Origins 

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



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